


a wild lake, with black rock bound

by bereft_of_frogs



Series: the nine in the tree [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: (and mostly get them), Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Magical Accidents, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Thor (2011), Sickfic, The Raft Prison (Marvel), Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Whump, Whumptober 2019, heavy on the comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-12-28 11:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21136151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: (some) Whumptober 2019 prompt fills.A chase that ends when the sky falls. A magical rivalry that spirals out of control. A knife to the back. Memories that hurt.Thor and Loki are haunted by more than ghosts.But yeah, there are also ghosts.





	1. the air is thin (and you are falling)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I know I've left you all hanging with the concluding chapter to this series for far, far, _far_ too long, but while you're waiting for me to finish the last third of the Worst Draft and polish things up, have about 30k words of gratuitous hurt/comfort! Most of these fit into the series, though there are some that are pre-_Thor_ so don't _have_ to fit. Settings and additional warnings will be in the notes at the start of each chapter.
> 
> Title is from Edgar Allen Poe's "The Lake". 
> 
> _In the spring of youth it was my lot_  
_To haunt of the wide world a spot_  
_To which I could not love the less-_  
_So lovely was the loneliness_  
_Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,_  
_And the tall pines that towered around._  
  
Happy reading! And happy Spooky month! ;-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. Asphyxiation. (Pre-Thor) They are chasing a sorcerer when the sky falls. 
> 
> 13A. Breathless. (The Ark) Loki has not been feeling so well lately. The cause seems to be this massive scar on his chest...
> 
> [Additional warnings: discussion of death, dead bodies (though no character death)]

_19\. Asphyxiation_  
  
They should not have stayed in the cave.  
  
The Warriors Three didn’t. They were lured out, back into the open, successfully misdirected by their quarry.

But Loki had seen through the feint, his magic tracing the other’s. The sorcerer had moved deeper into the cave system while casting an illusion outside of it, and when Thor turns to follow their friends, his face red with the bloodlust of the chase, Loki stops him. “Thor!” He hisses. “This way.”

Thor grins and follows him deeper under the mountain.

But the other sorcerer senses his misdirection hadn’t worked. He knows that they are coming for him. Loki tastes magic in the air and then there’s a great rumbling, a tremor shaking the ground beneath him. Loki realizes what’s going to happen the moment before it does.

“Thor!” He cries, turning back. _“Run!”_

The ceiling comes down on them as they desperately make for the exit. Thor’s hand closes on his arm, keeping them together even as rocks and stone crash around them.

They don’t make it. The light is blocked out, the rain of rocks beats heavily down upon them. Thor stops running, spins and grabs Loki in a fluid motion. They crash together, collapsing to the floor. Thor covers Loki’s body with his own, his hands protectively held over his head. Loki manages at the last moment to stretch out his magic and create a bubble around them. The rocks fall and lodge against each other, sealing their little pocket of safety.

The roaring of the cave wall collapsing seems to last a very long time. Finally, it stops, leaving behind an echoing, dead silence. Nothing in the cave makes a sound, moves a muscle.

Except for the rogue sorcerer, who slips out a hidden exit at the back of the cave, emerges from the tunnels into the woods, and disappears.

The princes can do little else for a long time other than try to slow their racing hearts.

Finally, Thor whispers in a tight, worried voice, “Are you injured?”

“No,” Loki breathes back. “No, I’m fine, you?”

“Fine.” Neither says out loud that soon they’re not going to be fine. Loki stretches out with his magic, feels the completeness of the walls around them. He can also feel the Warrior’s Three and Sif’s frantic, furious energy, and the shifting of stone as they desperately start to dig.

“They’re coming for us,” Loki whispers. He doesn’t know why he whispers. He could scream and no one but Thor would hear him. He does not know why he keeps his voice low, only that to speak louder seems to be a violation, seems as though it would invite further misfortune.

“How long?”

“I don’t know.” Perhaps not long enough. Loki’s trying to calculate the amount of oxygen in the air, the amount they’ll need per hour, but he’s still unsure of the dimensions of their prison. He raises his hand and conjures a faint light.

He sees his brother’s face first. Thor’s face is streaked with dirt and blood from a scrape to his forehead, his eyes wide and worried. The light falls on the rest and he stifles a gasp.

The rock is mere inches from Thor’s back. They would perhaps have enough room to roll over once, but only just. Loki reaches out with his foot and strikes rock immediately. He brings up the hand not occupied holding the light and finds rock just above his head. They are not in a pocket of safety - they are in a tomb.

Thor’s thumb strokes through his hair. “It will be all right.” But his hand shakes a little. “They’re coming for us.”

“And they may not be in time. We have little oxygen. We should not speak. To conserve air.”

Thor nods at his light. “And you your magic.”

Loki swallows convulsively, thinking of the dark with apprehension, but agrees. He banishes his light, plunging them into blackness. Then they can do nothing else but wait.

Their tomb swiftly grows hot, and they are soon sticky with sweat. The warmth and humidity from their bodies makes it even harder to breathe, the air becoming heavy and thick. They try to keep their breaths slow and even, as shallow as they possibly can, but still, Loki quickly finds himself dizzy and nauseous. Thor shifts, clearly uncomfortable, but then his body is laying too heavily on Loki’s stomach and he wheezes, shoving at him. A few minutes of quiet shifting and they settle again, still pressed close together, limbs tangled. There’s really not anywhere else for them to go. And Loki’s honestly unsure he wants to be much further away. Doesn't want to be lost in the dark, without even his brother as an anchor.

Loki had once been absolutely terrified of the dark. He had been just barely a child, in his own room for the first time. He had spent nearly every night of the first year making it an hour or so before fleeing to either his brother’s or his parent’s room. When they asked what had frightened him, he simply said _shapes_. He no longer quite remembers what he meant by that, but here in the darkness of their tomb, he can almost understand. His heart thuds in his chest, his mouth is dry. His eyes try to capture details in the dark, only latching on to faint changes in the quality of darkness, his mind spinning, extrapolating out the horrors that could be lurking.

His breath quickens, though he tries to calm himself.

Thor shifts and it makes Loki jump, tense as a bowstring. “All right?” Thor asks.

“Yes. Fine.” Loki’s voice is a thin whine. “Fine. Do you remember…how afraid of the dark I was?”

“Norns. Yes.”

Loki laughs. “I was such a fool. As I am now.”

“You are not a fool, anything but.”

“I should not have…we should not have pursued him. I…it’s my fault.”

“An error, on both our parts.”

“Can you tell me honestly, if we had been able to escape after losing our prey, that you would not have railed against me?”

“I would not have…ah,” Thor sighs. “Fine. You are right, I would not have been pleased.”

“Ha. You would have been furious now. You are only acting like this now out of fear. Because you do not wish us to die while you are angry with me.” Loki’s eyes sting.

“That’s not…we are not going to…they’re coming for us. They’ll dig us out, you said so yourself. You can feel them, can’t you?” Loki reaches out with his magic and feels their friends, their anxious, frantic energy, growing ever so slightly closer. He nods, though Thor cannot see. “You are right. My words come from fear. I never feared the dark as you did, but I did fear letting you down. I’ve always feared letting people down. And…I should have protected you. Better than this. I should be able to save you.”

They wallow together in their helplessness. There is absolutely nothing they can do to save themselves - but wait.

Thor shifts again, tracing his hand up Loki’s arm, giving him a familiar press to the neck. Loki leans into the touch. Thor cradles his head with one broad hand, his thumb stroking in his hair. It isn’t quite enough for Loki to forget their predicament, but it is something.

“It will be all right,” Thor says, voice wavering. Loki shuts his eyes against the dark and wraps his arms around Thor’s waist.

The air begins to truly thin. Loki no longer has the focus or strength to reach out to feel for the Warriors Three. The world spins constantly behind his squeezed shut eyes, never settling. An unpleasant feeling in his stomach, straining for air.

His breaths are little more than thin gasps now, the air moving in and out of his lungs but never satisfying. The sound of Thor’s breath is the same, gasping, but his thumb has not stopped soothingly moving over Loki’s hair. They are beyond speaking, so these are the only ways Loki knows Thor is still alive. He drinks them in, clinging tighter.

It is good that they are together. Loki would not have wanted to die any other way. If it had been anyone else…it wouldn’t have been _right_. This was at least right, it was at least in order. He turns his face into Thor’s long blond hair

But would they go together? Or would one die first and the other linger with the corpse until their oxygen-starved brain finally gave out?

It would be Thor first. Because the universe had always profoundly hated Loki, but he can also feel Thor's fading consciousness. Loki can feel his heart where their chests are pressed together. Thor’s heartbeat is too fast, skipping and stuttering. Dying. Tears stream back over Loki’s temples, dripping into his hair. He doesn’t want Thor to die. He doesn’t want to be alone here, waiting for his own death and mourning his brother for those scant, suffocating minutes. It’s not fair.

He lets in a ragged, burning gasp that comes out a faint sob. Conserving air no longer truly matters, with how little is left in their prison. And maybe if he breathes deeper, it will happen faster. Maybe they _will_ go together. 

He’s getting tired. Exhausted, really. It seems so easy just to fall away, to let perception dissolve until there is nothing left but darkness. He’s so close. Thor’s thumb has stopped stroking his hair. Loki's limbs are losing feeling. His face feels numb. He can hear their breaths, their thin wheezing breaths, echoing in the tight walls of their tomb. They're so close.

He hopes they go together. But everyone dies alone, he knows this, and it is far more likely they won’t, and that will be the most wrong thing of all of this.

Then there’s a sound. Not their ragged breathing, not the echo of dead silence, a _real_ sound. And then there’s an influx of cold, clean air. It hits Loki’s face first, then his lungs and the oxygen sends his head spinning and spinning, his brain screaming with the relief, and he faints to the sound of someone calling his name.

Loki comes to in bits and pieces. There's air in his lungs and a breeze on his face, and could cry with relief. But then he opens his eyes to darkness - is he still in the tomb, his mind conjuring a hallucination to protect him? Is he dead, in the afterlife and all is an illusion? Where’s Thor?

He lets out a cry, fights to sit up. He blinks and his vision starts to clear.

“My prince, just rest.” There’s a hand on his chest. “It’s okay, Loki. Calm down.” Volstagg’s face comes into focus. It is not the dark of the tomb, merely night, and his eyes adjusting to the faint light. A fire crackles, casting a warm glow over their campsite. The cave-in suddenly feels like a distant nightmare, something unreal and merely conjured by his mind. But his clothes are filthy and torn, his lungs still feel like they will not quite fill completely. “We pulled you out a few hours ago. _Norns_, we thought you were dead when we first found you.” Volstagg’s voice is haunted.

“Where’s Thor?” His voice rasps, barely audible. “Where is he? Volstagg-”

“It’s all right. He’s right here.”

Thor lies next to him, still unconscious, but the rise and fall of his chest is even. “He woke a little while before you did. You’re both fine. We’re going to let you rest for a while longer. The others have gone to get help, then we’ll bring you back to Asgard. You’re all right now.”

Loki allows himself to be pushed back down, covered by a cloak. He doesn’t want to sleep anymore, doesn’t want to close his eyes and see the blackness, though exhaustion is pulling at him.

Loki turns on his side, towards the glow of the fire and wraps his shaking fingers around his brother’s arm. He doesn’t take his eyes off the flame.

He never wants to experience such darkness again.

The others return a few hours later with reinforcements, to help carry them back to Asgard. Their parents are frantic with worry when they arrive.

It’s barely a day before Thor starts complaining about being forced to rest.

Loki spends six months sleeping with all the lights on in his bedroom, then a further decade with a nightlight.

But they are young and eventually all things pass from their minds.

Until the Void.

This time, when Loki is strangled by the suffocating blackness, he is alone.

\- - - - - - -

_13A. Breathless_  
  
“Come on, Lackey!”

“I thought I had _finally_ gotten you to stop calling me that.”

The Valkyrie puts her hands on her hips. “When you’re being annoying, I’ll call you lackey.”

“And how am I being annoying, right now?” Loki turns away from her, twirling a light, glass-blown orb hanging from the ceiling of a market stall.

“We have a meeting. And I don’t want to stay on this disgusting fucking planet for a moment longer then I have to. And you’re lingering in a merchant stall that we definitely can’t afford, looking at trinkets.”

“We’ll make it in plenty of time. And it doesn’t matter if we can’t afford them, I’m merely appreciating the craftsman’s skill.” Loki gives the woman manning the stall a smile and a wink. She bows her head, then blows her runny nose. The Valkyrie scowls at her, then grabs Loki’s arm, pulling him roughly away.

“Hey! You are not allowed to grab me like I’m a _child_ in your care-”

“Oh? Do we want to check with your brother on that?” Loki shakes off her arm and she smiles wickedly. “Come on, your highness.” She sweeps into an overdramatic bow. “May we go pick up the parts our esteemed king ordered for us?”

Loki grins and bows back, gesturing up the street. “After you, my lady.”

“Good. I want to get the fuck out of here. This place is truly disgusting.”

At the supply shop - a steel warehouse on the edge of the market - the Valkyrie haggles with the shopkeeper while Loki watches with some amusement.

A twinge passes through his chest. Another, stronger one. He cannot help the twist of his expression, the little sound of pain. He steps to the side, out of sight of the Valkyrie. He presses his fingertips to the center of the pain, trying to breathe evenly as the pressure increases. It doesn’t work. The scar is like a vice, pain screwing his chest tighter and tighter until he can’t even draw breath into his lungs.

The pressure finally lets up, leaving him breathless and feeling drained.

He’d been exhausted all day. Sleep doesn’t seem to touch the tired heaviness that’s settled on him, the fatigue that pulls on his magic and makes it feel sluggish and dragging. He checks to make sure the Valkyrie is still occupied with the shopkeeper, then undoes the clasps on his shirt, pulling it back enough to examine the scar.

It’s much the same as it always has been. A gnarled, discolored mass of tissue in the center of his chest, matching the one on his back. It has refused all his vain efforts to heal it, and now it even resists his efforts to hide it behind a glamour. As he looks at it, another spasm passes through it and he has to brace himself against the wall and press his palm flat to the scar until it passes. He is left panting again, cold sweat beading at his temples. His fingers shake as he does up the buttons.

“Ready to go?” The Valkyrie saunters out of the warehouse, clearly pleased with herself. “I just saved us 30 units, that guy was a pushover - you okay?”

“Fine,” He dons a smile and applies just a touch of magic to smooth out the raw edges. “Shall we?” He just needs to rest. He’s been taking on too much lately. Everything is fine.

“Sure. On our way, lackey.”

“I was _not_ being annoying.”

“You didn’t stay to help, I could have used-”

“It sounds like you did quite well enough on your own.”

They bicker the whole way back to the ship, smiling all the way.

By nightfall, a constant dull ache has taken up residence in his scar. He wakes up the next morning with it when normally these sorts of things go away during the night. And his magic is slow to respond to his call. He is tired and dragging throughout the day, begging off some of his harder or more seidr-dependent chores.

He retires early.

In the middle of the night, while he slumbers, he begins to cough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so excited to start posting these and I'm so glad I got everything together in time. There are seven chapters, all based on two or more whumptober prompts, 17 in total. A far cry from the 31.5 I did last year, but I'm still really happy with it! 
> 
> Additional notes: 
> 
> \- '19. Asphyxiation' was partially based on an anonymous gift I received during the Hurt/Comfort Exchange last year, called ['Cave in.'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18810523) I had had the vague idea and put it in as a prompt and received this absolutely lovely work. The artist never revealed themselves, but thank you, mystery person, anyway! 
> 
> \- '13A. Breathless' is a prelude to the illness in 'pain and other human sensations', covered in chapters ['8. Fever'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473503/chapters/38773868)/['28. Severe Illness'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473503/chapters/39326320)/['30. Caregiver'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473503/chapters/39379765). 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3


	2. wary of witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (All pre-Thor)
> 
> 16\. Pinned Down. A wolf in a trap in a cold forest on Midgard. And the mob is coming. 
> 
> 21\. Laced Drink. Loki's rivalry with a fellow sorcerer escalates, and Thor is not pleased. 
> 
> 25\. Humiliation. The final act. This ends now.
> 
> [Additional Warnings: blood, vomiting]

_16\. Pinned Down _

His vocal cords twist and bend, turning a beastly howl into a human cry of rage and then back again. Then the form stabilizes, trapped in that of a large grey wolf, the creature unable to continue fighting. The wolf in the trap lets out a pure howl, crouching down on the freshly fallen snow and panting tiredly.

“Oh, young prince,” The sorcerer pacing around the clearing says, with a smile and a patronizing shake of his head. “You should not have challenged me. Perhaps in a few centuries, you’ll be up to the task…but for now…you are no match for me, your highness.”

The wolf growls and makes another attempt to shift back into his usual form before giving up and slumping down to the snow, with a huff. The trap - pure iron and soaked in spells - bites hard into his leg. Blood drips sluggishly onto the snow. The bone is shattered, splintered beneath the jaws of the trap. The wound throbs, further dulling the strength of the magic in his veins.

“You have two options, the way I see it,” the rival sorcerer says, continuing his mocking pacing around the captive. “The village has long been wary of wolves making off with their sheep - they will have heard your howls by now. They will be coming with swords and axes, ready to slay the beast that threatens their flock.” The sorcerer’s smile widens. “Warier still are they of witches and shapeshifters. If you do manage to shift your form back, they will only take advantage of your injury to bind you and bring you to the town square, where they will tie you to a stake and burn you before a jeering crowd.” The wolf growls. “It is good for Asgard that you are the second prince - no big loss to the throne should you fail to cleverly free yourself before the mob finds you. Farewell, Prince Loki. And good luck, your highness.” The sorcerer disappears in a blink, leaving Loki alone, bleeding and pinned down in the Midgardian forest.

Loki curses himself, furious at his foolishness. He should have known not to cave to the Lord Chancellor’s third son’s goading. He should have known that Ragnar had some game in mind as he provoked the prince to a challenge.

Ragnar was a skilled sorcerer, several decades older than Loki himself, but he had little power in the court. He had thus far relied upon his magic to keep what power he had, but there were already whispers that Loki would soon far surpass him. This trap was no doubt some attempt to alter his standing - to position himself as the most powerful mage in the court.

It was all so _clear_ in hindsight, even through the fog of pain emanating from his wounded leg. He should have known. But Loki is young and hot-tempered and competitive and proud - all foolish vices that fed into the bait and led him to this predicament.

His whole body throbs, aching with the repeated attempts to shift back. His leg is a blinding spot of agony. Even if he breaks the spells and frees himself from the trap, it will be near useless. He will likely be limping for days.

On the wind, he tastes iron and leather, and the burning oil of torches. He can make out over the sounds of the forest hard voices and the barking of hunting dogs, coming closer.

He increases his efforts to break the spells. He even tries to use the blood dripping from his wounds as a catalyst, but still his counter-spells sputter and fail.

The voices grow louder, closer, and Loki begins to truly panic, desperately struggling against the trap. Then a halting, staggering step sounding from behind him startles him out of his attempts.

“What’s this?” A creaking, old voice says. “Ah, a trap.”

Loki snarls, raising his hackles, trying to make himself bigger, more threatening.

“No, no, not to worry, sir wolf, I intend no harm.” The old man limps into view, leaning heavily on a staff. “Not to worry, I will have you out of that trap in a moment.” Loki settles back with a suspicious growl, but the old man smiles. “Yes, that’s it. Good beast, I’m not here to hurt you.” He inches closer, cautiously approaching the trap.

Loki does not trust the mortal. But the man is old and crippled. Even with the shattered leg and weakened magic, Loki can easily overpower him. He can allow this old man to free him, then quickly snap his neck and be on his way. If he just holds still and lets the mortal help him, he can be gone from this realm and free to plan elaborate revenge against his rival.

The man makes a shushing sound and smooths back the bloody fur from his flank. “They don’t understand, in the village. They’ve always sought to kill that what they don’t understand, or that which has no use to them.” He pinches the mechanism on the trap; it makes a grinding sound. Suddenly the iron releases and the horrible pressure lifts. In the haze of pained relief, Loki forgets his plan to kill the man. For a moment, he can do nothing else but lay panting, as his magic returns to him. When he surfaces, the man is preposterously still there, soothingly stroking his fur and murmuring, absurdly trusting. Loki tiredly finds his bloodlust rather dimmed in the face of it. He just wants to go home. This mortal might be spared.

So instead of snapping the old man’s neck, Loki renders himself invisible. The old man cries out in shock. Once invisible, Loki shifts back into his own form, sighing with relief at the feeling of his familiar skin settling over him. His leg is still pulsing in pain, but he manages to get unsteadily to his feet. The old man is still aghast, touching shaking fingertips to the bloody snow in confused wonder.

“Thank you,” Loki says. His voice must appear to come from nowhere at all. The man gasps. “I shan’t forget the favor.” Then he turns and staggers into the shadowpath, becoming a ghost story.

Loki lingers for a while in the shadowpath, amidst the swirling darkness while his leg throbs in agony until it can hold at least a little of his weight. Then he limps his way back to Asgard. The golden towers shimmer with the evening lights. Several parties are going on, and he foregoes them all. He could easily find out which one his parents are attending, dramatically appear in his blood-soaked and tattered clothes, name his attacker and watch his father’s wrath - that would be decent revenge, but he has a more complicated, drawn-out plan in mind. He wants to make Ragnar suffer for a while before he lands the final blow. The tension, the wondering what Loki was planning, should serve quite nicely as part of his punishment.

Besides, his leg and head ache. His body feels heavy and exhausted. So instead, he limps past the parties, past the healing halls, even his own quarters, to slip through well-worn hidden passages to his brother’s chambers.

Thor is entertaining their friends in his common room when Loki slips into his bedroom. He could fetch him in a moment but decides not to. His wounds are not mortal and dealing with Thor would be just as exhausting as dealing with his parents. Thor’s voice and his booming laughter, matched to Volstagg’s, filtered through the closed doors, are enough of a comfort.

He lays himself down on Thor’s bed, burrows in the covers, and thinks with a grin of how angry Thor will be when he discovers Loki had gotten blood and mud and melting snow all over his sheets. He slowly drifts asleep to blissful, violent fantasies of what justice he will mete out on that fool Ragnar.

The moment before he falls fully to sleep, he thinks of the old man and offers a quiet prayer to the Norns for his fate.

\- - - - - - -

_21\. Laced Drink_  
  
Ragnar is finally back in attendance at court dinners, Loki observes. He looks thin, and a bit pale, sitting with a group of other mages and very carefully not looking at the head table. On his way out of the banquet, Loki pauses at his table.

“Welcome back to Asgard, Ragnar, _so_ nice to see you returned. Find what you were looking for? I’m so sorry I could not have been more helpful.” Of course, what Ragnar had been looking for was the exit to the enchanted labyrinth Loki had trapped him in. But Ragnar could not publicly challenge the prince, could not levy his accusation here, with their parents just two tables away.

“Yes, my prince, what a shame.”

Loki just smiles and leaves the hall. His leg still twinges sometimes, when he lands on it wrong, and the slight pain as he walks away from Ragnar is enough to fuel the plans for his next revenge.

But Ragnar is stubborn and will not be intimidated. He does not back down. He continues to show up to court functions, to study in the library, gather with his little group of followers in public places. Loki puts up with it all, biding his time. He begins to plan for Ragnar’s final downfall, for the end of the rivalry. It has to be something _spectacular_, after these months of intensifying sniping at each other. It has to be absolutely legendary, Loki will accept no other recompense for his wounded leg and pride. And it should be soon. Ragnar will no doubt be planning his own next move, his own revenge for the labyrinth.

Loki fantasizes about the end result, vividly picturing Ragnar’s humiliation and disgrace, while at a particularly long and dull dinner. They’re finally given leave to eat, once all the speeches are done. Loki scowls at his brother when Thor elbows him carelessly and reaches for his glass of wine.

He drinks half before he realizes.

He stops, breathing evenly, a pit of dread forming in his stomach. He sets the glass down, fixes his features to a neutral expression. He can feel Ragnar watching him from across the hall. He takes a deep breath and probes the liquid - both where it sits, deceptively innocent, in the cup, and where it sloshes in his stomach - with magic. Not fatal. Unknown effects, but a very clear source. The magical signature in the potion nearly screams at him. He surreptitiously checks Thor’s, nothing.

What does Ragnar want with this? He’s smirking across the hall, waiting for something.

Loki won’t give him the satisfaction. Whatever he had planned, Loki won’t give in to it.

He looks across the hall and picks his glass up again. He doesn’t take his eyes off Ragnar’s. Their gazes lock and he downs the rest of the glass in a single gulp.

Ragnar’s expression wavers. He looks away. Whatever he had been expecting Loki to do, it was not that. When he looks back, it is with mingled disappointment and satisfaction on his face. Loki seems to have thwarted at least some of his plans, but not all. He still has no idea what the potion will do to him. And given the satisfaction on Ragnar’s face, it is not likely to be pleasant. Ragnar raises his glass to him, with a small smile. Time for Loki to fall back, retreat.

“Thor.” He touches Thor’s arm. His brother does not pay him any mind. “Thor!” Still nothing. There’s an odd feeling reverberating in his magic, a stirring in his stomach. He huffs. “Thor, _I need you_.”

That works and his brother turns towards him. “What is it?”

“Wait five minutes, then come back to my room.”

Thor’s brow furrows. “Why?”

“_Please_. I’ll explain there.” Thor finally agrees and Loki rises from the table. He casts enough of a glamour to make everyone’s eyes slide off him, and flees the hall.  
In his room, he sits on the bed, breathing evenly with his eyes closed. Whatever is going to happen is slow to start. Gradually, he becomes aware of an ache in his stomach, churning nausea. Sweat beads at his temples.

Thor arrives precisely five minutes after Loki, knocking on the door once and letting himself in. “What was all that about, brother?”

“Come in. And close the door.”

Thor enters but does not shut the door. “Loki, you’re pale-”

Loki chuckles, semi-hysterically. “Yes, I’m not feeling very well.”

“Oh,” Thor says. “Do you need me to-”

“If you could fetch a basin. There should be one in the bath.” His voice sounds strangled, thick. Thor does not look pleased but does as he asks. While he’s gone, Loki lets out a big breath in a long whoosh, fighting back the urge to throw up on the carpet. Saliva fills his mouth and he swallows it back. There’s a small shake starting in his hands.

Thor sets the basin on the floor in front of him, then sits beside him, rubbing his back. Loki feels a rush of pure gratitude. “You’re going to throw up?” Loki nods, not trusting himself to speak. “Was it something you ate?”

“Oh yes,” Loki says, squeezing his own thigh to keep himself under control. “Most certainly. I was poisoned.”

Thor surges to his feet. _“What?”_ He roars, fury sudden. Loki flinches back from it. “Poisoned, _how?”_

“Not sure. In the wine. A potion. No one else’s. Just me.”

“I’m am going to fetch the guards. We need to-”

“Don’t.” Loki waves a hand and the door slams, locks with magic. Using magic stings and he doubts the lock will last for long but it is at least enough to distract Thor from his intention of going for the healers. “It’s not fatal.”

“How can you possibly be sure of that?”

“Because I know _exactly_ who did this and my death wouldn’t serve their purpose at all. I’m sure this isn’t going to be pleasant, but I’m quite sure I’m going to survive. If you could _just_-” He cuts off, a wave of dizziness passing over him. His breath comes short. He swallows down the sudden flush of saliva in his mouth. His stomach flips. Thor’s hands are suddenly under his elbows, lifting him and dragging him forward just in time for him to start vomiting into the basin.

The vomit burns his throat on its way up. For a long time, he knows nothing but the painful heaves, his whole body spasming, gut aching. Long after his stomach is empty, he still gags, bringing up nothing but a thin stream of bile. Thor holds his hair back and rubs his back soothingly as he heaves.

He starts shaking, his limbs beyond his control. Thor’s arms are wrapped around him, holding him tight as the violent shakes overtake him. He gasps in, opens his mouth to try and speak, but he only gags again. A warmth spreads in his lap - he’s wet himself, the urine stain spreading over his pants. He can’t find it in himself to be humiliated because his stomach flips again and his muscles spasm painfully and he wants to scream but his throat contracts, convulsing, trying to vomit even though there’s nothing left to bring up.

His magic seems to flex, turn back on himself. It burns horribly, flaying his skin, but there is no outward sign of its destruction. Just the pain.

Thor remains, as promised, trying to force him to drink water, trying to force him to calm. Whether from the pain or the poison itself, Loki begins to lose track of reality. One moment Thor is there, his brother, then he is a monster with a gaping maw, ready to swallow him whole. Loki flinches back, fights to get out of the monster’s grip, then Thor is himself again, reaching out with a soothing hand.

Then Loki doesn’t remember where he is, the details of his own room suddenly foreign to him. He looks around and recognizes nothing, knows nothing but that he is sick and his stomach pains him and he is frightened.

His head is full of fog. He only knows that he is in danger, his brother is in danger and he can’t _fix_ it. He clings to Thor then, embracing him so tightly that Thor wheezes. Loki weeps in his arms, so, so afraid. “They’re going to kill us, they’re going to kill us,” He sobs.

“Who are?” Thor asks, so gently, oh, he still doesn’t know, he still doesn’t understand-

What? What doesn’t he understand? The thoughts, details, slip through his head like wriggling fish. The fear remains, the certainty that they’re in danger, and he cries with frustration that he can’t focus his thoughts.

“They’re going to kill us. _Thor_.” Thor just shushes him and starts to rock him. “I can’t…I _can’t.”_

Eventually, the heaves stop. The shaking stops. The horrible burning sensation on his magic stops. The delirium stops. The poison works its way through his system.

Thor is saying something, something comforting he assumes, but he can’t yet speak.

Thor gathers him up from the floor and carries him into the bathroom, setting him carefully in the tub. He begins to fill the tub with water, water that feels blissfully cool on his skin after hours of burning.

“Thor,” He gasps as he feels darkness closing in. He’s exhausted, he needs to sleep - but his suddenly clear mind reminds him he can’t let Thor do anything stupid, can’t let him ruin this competition. “Don’t leave,” Loki chokes out.

“I won’t. I won’t leave you.” His brother’s voice is low, soothing.

“Don’t tell anyone. Promise…I promise I’ll explain.”

Thor looks uncertain. He tucks back a strand of Loki’s hair behind his ear. “Loki, you were just-”

“I promise to explain,” Loki groans, sinking lower as the water rises up around him, soaking through his filthy, soiled clothes. “But please. Let me sleep for a few hours. Let me just sleep and then…” His eyes start to drift shut, awareness fading. “Explain. Then you can decide. If you want to go to Mother and Father.”

Thor’s hand stroking his hair feels very nice. “Fine,” He says, sounding miserable. “Fine. Just sleep. I swear I will not leave you.”

“Mmhh. Good.” He closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

Loki wakes and it is still dark outside, the room lit softly by glowing lamps. He takes stock of his body. He feels like he is coming down from a long fever, weak and shaky and still vaguely nauseous, but empty. He can move and his mind is clear of fog. He knows where he is, remembers what had happened. The condition of his magic is another story, but he leaves it alone to replenish.

His hair is damp. Braided, resting on his shoulder and spreading a wet patch on his shirt. His pajama shirt. Thor must have dressed him in clean, unsoiled clothes, tucked him into bed. He feels humiliated for a moment, but it was quickly followed by relief. It was rather nice, not to have to peel himself up off the floor, to have to wash himself and drag himself to bed.

He cracks an eye open and notes with further relief that Thor is sitting by his bedside, looking just as miserable as he had when Loki had passed out. Good. He would not be so morose if he had told.

“Loki? Are you awake?”

“I’m awake.” He manages to sit up, Thor steadying him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, worlds better.” He offers a faint smile. “Ready to start planning my revenge.”

Thor’s frown deepens. “So you know who did this? Tell me now, _right now_, and I will go and-”

“No. Listen.” Loki takes a deep breath and starts to explain.

He tells Thor everything about his rivalry with Ragnar, the murky origins of their competition, the escalating battles.

“So it was he who was behind your leg injury?” Thor finally shouts. He’s been pacing for the better part of Loki’s explanation. It makes Loki feel tired. “The one _you_ refused to explain?” He points an accusatory finger at him.

Loki waves him off. “Yes.” At Thor’s stormy expression, he quickly follows up. “And then I trapped him in an isolated enchanted labyrinth until he nearly starved to death.”

“I am going to _kill_ him. I am going to destroy him, how _dare_ he touch you!” Thor stops short, shaking with fury.

“Your overprotectiveness is often flattering, but it is not helpful in this situation.”

“Over…You are completely insane!” Thor cries. “This is absolute madness, I cannot _believe_ you-”

“I am not going to go running to our parents! I will be known the realms over as the sorcerer who went running to his mother for protection. And how is this any different from the time you made me promise not to tell, and to keep watch, while you dueled our cousin in Vanaheim-”

“That was different!”

“How? Precisely how?”

“Because! You are my-” Loki shoots him a scathing look. Thor turns very red in the face. “For one, it was one duel, not a whole string of them. Two, we were evenly matched-”

“You think I can’t-”

“Ragnar is decades older than you. He is an adult, you are-”

“I am _not_ a child!”

“And that duel was a stupid fight, not a…not a pattern of him consistently tormenting-”

“He’s not…I just _said_, I’m doing it right back!”

“Loki.” Thor kneels before him and grabs his arms. Loki would pull away but he is still a bit dizzy and feels if he rose he would just fall down. “I thought you were better at this than me. Can’t you see what he’s doing? He’s using you to secure position for himself. He is _hurting_ you to keep power and I cannot allow this! I cannot sit by and watch him lay a finger on my brother!” Thor’s voice rises to a furious shout.

“Of course that’s what this is! That’s what anything anyone ever does here is about - it’s all a game to keep power. Which means if I want to win, I can’t just run to our parents. I will lose all credibility. Even if Father banishes him from court, if Mother ruins his reputation, I’ll still lose. I’ll have to deal with challenging sorcerers for years. But, if I defeat him myself, they’ll think twice about challenging me. I believe that was what Ragnar was intending, poisoning me in public like this. He wanted me to react, wanted me to give in and publicly accuse him in front of the whole court. Which would undermine my power. I’m sure there’s no way to trace the poison back to him, it would just make me look paranoid and jealous. Bonus, if I had lost control in the hall as well, a bit of humiliation, the prince vomiting and wetting himself and raving in front of the whole court.” Thor makes a displeased sound in his throat. “Clever though, because even if I didn’t he still got this.” He gestures at his body, still weak and shaky. He still feels cold and knows he must look gaunt, wrecked. “Little bit of suffering, vengeance for the maze.”

“I don’t like this,” Thor growls. “I _hate_ this.”

“You can stay informed if that will make you feel better. As long you promise not to tell and you promise to follow my plans, not just go storming off to beat him to a pulp.”

“I can, you know,” Thor says, squeezing his shoulders. “If you give me word, a single word, I would go find him and I would tear him apart for what he’s done to you. I _want_ to do that. I really, _really_ want to do that.”

“Thank you. But make sure you take out your frustrations on a practice dummy or something, I won’t have you losing your temper and ruining my plans.”

Thor shakes his head, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Loki can see him warring with himself. A bit younger, he may have been frightened enough by how sick Loki had been to go running for their parents. A bit older, he would have been responsible enough to do it, to realize that this fight was spiraling out of control and if they weren’t careful, someone could end up dead.

But they were both in the perfect stage of adolescence when they truly believed they were immortal. When they believed that no one can touch them and the most important thing was _proving_ themselves, proving themselves powerful, independent, untouchable. There is no fear even, not yet, only anger and insult in Thor’s eyes.

Thor finally nods. “So, brother, I can’t wait to see what twisted plans you have for our dear friend Ragnar.”

Loki smiles. “Well…”

\- - - - - - -

_25\. Humiliation_  
  
“I still don’t like this,” Thor says, eyes fixed across the hall.

Loki sighs. “So you’ve said. Several hundred times. Stop staring, it’s going to make him suspicious.” They are in the grand hall, in full view of the court, at a very opulent dinner in honor of the new ambassador to Alfheim. The princes are dressed their best and the chefs have truly outdone themselves preparing the food set before them. Loki has not been able to touch his food. The thought of eating anything at all turns his stomach. It’s all he can do to sit quiet and composed, and not gag at the smell of it.

The culprit for his current nauseated state - and the subject of Thor’s glare - sits several tables away. Thor has been staring daggers at him for an hour. As Loki watches, Ragnar glances up at the table, looking grimly satisfied. He purses his lips when he sees Loki watching and quickly turns away to start up a conversation with his neighbor.

“Yes,” Loki continues. “I told you I have a plan. And it will all go easier if he still believes you and our parents are in the dark. We wouldn’t want him growing overcautious now - this all depends on his arrogance.”

“One month,” Thor growls. “I am giving you one month before I take this into my own hands and kill him.”

Loki smiles. He can’t help but glow a bit in the light of his older brother’s attention. His overprotectiveness over this whole matter has been the most attention Loki has gotten from him in months. They each now have their own affairs, own activities, and those often take Thor off-planet for months at a time. Loki, after he slept off the remainder of the poison, had been quite enjoying how Thor wouldn’t let him out of his sight and frequently kept a firm hand on his back.

But he will not allow Thor’s affection to ruin his final revenge.

He just smiles, and halfheartedly picks at his dinner.

One problem with Ragnar was that he was actually quite popular. For more popular than Loki. Part of that was time and age. At a few decades older, he seemed to most of the younger mages someone to emulate, a charismatic, powerful mage.

And part was Loki’s fault. He had never really needed to participate in the popularity contest - he considered himself above it. He was their prince, he cared not if the others liked him. The other young mages found him dark and somewhat strange. No, there wouldn’t be any winning of their affection now.

But he could at least turn them against Ragnar.

For all that Loki was indifferent to the popularity contests among the young mages, he did find the ebbs and flows of the court fascinating. He’d been attending court functions for years now, watching from the shadows and learning how to influence people.

By week’s end, he’s got the lay of the land.

Two days after that, he’s got the staff swirling with rumors about conflicts between the mages - not a single word of the true struggle, however. He carefully keeps his and Ragnar’s names away from each other. But it starts to cause discord in their ranks. That’s how he gets half the mages to turn against him. It’s almost too easy.

There had always been a few who were uncomfortable with the antagonism Ragnar showed him. Loki may have been strange and unpopular, aloof, but he was still their prince. Some at least showed him the barest loyalty for that fact alone. Several more just feared what sort of trouble they could get into if they were outwardly hostile to a member of the royal family. It’s enough.

He finally tips it over but one simple conversation. He sows the seeds, then approaches a Vanir mage in the courtyard on a sunny afternoon.

“I apologize if I have offended you,” He says shyly, intently studying his hands. 

“My prince, I…no, never.”

“Good,” He says with an awkward smile. “I know I may seem…distant at times. But I mean no offense.”

“Of course not, your highness, and I never believed…”

“Oh, I just heard…but thank you for proving otherwise. Good day.” He rises, keeping his eyes downcast, and leaves him in the courtyard, frowning.

At the next formal dinner, Loki is thoroughly pleased to see that half of Ragnar’s table is left empty.

“Your plans proceeding smoothly?” Thor whispers to him.

“Very smoothly indeed.” Loki helps himself to a second portion and fills his cup to the brim.

His most loyal followers will be a tougher nut to crack. Ragnar has to do that himself.

Loki makes a rare appearance in the public workrooms to complete begin that process.

Ragnar’s closest follower is an intelligent, quiet young man named Olvir who is very talented in theoretical magic, but not very powerful in his own right. He floated on Ragnar’s coattails, relying on his raw power and standing, while focusing his time on building complex theoretical models and devices. In the workroom, he had quite the collection of his works in progress set on his desk, perfectly organized.

“My prince,” Ragnar bows when Loki enters. “What brings you to us on this afternoon? You rarely come to the workrooms.”

“I was just taking a walk, for inspiration. I’ve been asked to provide some demonstration at the ball next week, the one in honor of the treaty signed between Asgard and Vanaheim. I’m honestly struggling to think up something suitable.”

“Perhaps we may be of assistance.”

“It’s just that, well,” He shakes his head. “They asked me to conjure a phoenix.”

“Conjure a…” Ragnar sputters. “They asked _you?”_

“Yes, my mother - the queen - and I had been discussing it.”

“A phoenix. My…what complicated magic. For someone your age,” Ragnar narrows his eyes. “I’m surprised. I did not think that was something you could do, your highness.”

“Yes, of course I can’t. That’s why I told them no. Perhaps in time. Maybe by the next centenary. But for now, it seems like I am out of ideas.”

Ragnar smiled. “Admitting that you cannot do something? How novel of you.”

“I am trying to learn some humility.” Loki leans against the desk. Waiting.

“It’s not really even that difficult a spell, my prince, once you learn the basics. Allow me to demonstrate the first part.”

A nudge is all it takes. Just a little telekinesis to set Olvir’s projects directly in the path of Ragnar’s ball of fire.

“No, wait!”

It is too late. Loki grits his teeth and channels Ragnar’s flame towards the fragile models, the sheaves of carefully annotated theoretical plans. It all burns up in a moment.

“Ragnar, I…” Olvir gasps. “That was _months_ of work!” He cries.

“I did not…I did not intend…”

“How unfortunate,” Loki says. “The phoenix is a rather complicated spell. Perhaps it should have been practiced in a place with less delicate workings left unprotected.” And he sweeps back out of the workshop.

His last glimpse is of Olvir staring with plain anger on his face, the others huddled together, talking in the corner. But Ragnar looked pleased with himself. Despite the destruction of his friend’s work, he had still successfully completed the first steps of a small scale conjuration. He looks like he’s calculating how much power and practice it would take to finish the spell, on a larger scale.

He’s also likely thinking of how embarrassing it will be to Loki, for Ragnar to successfully complete a task that Loki had refused.

Ragnar grins.

_Perfect._

The announcement is made several days later that Ragnar, younger son of the Lord Chancellor, will be making a grand demonstration at the anniversary ball and he walks around with a pompous, gloating air for the whole week. He barely even notices how his once loyal followers gather to gossip about him, how they meet separately from him, and seem to be gathering around Olvir as a new leader. He’s too busy making preparations.

Loki makes his own preparations. He spends hours in the dead of night creeping into the library and reading as much of the theory behind conjuration as he can. One must know the underlying structures if one wants to sabotage a spell.

The night of the ball, Loki dresses in his finest. Thor comes to find him. “Tonight, you said?”

Loki nods. “Tonight.”

“Am I going to like this?”

“Probably not.” Loki turns to him and smiles. “I’m sure you’d prefer to settle this with your fists.”

“You know I would, brother.”

“This should be a good show nonetheless.”

The ball is quite enjoyable, but Loki finds himself quite distracted anticipating the real show. He goes over and over the spells he’s practiced in his head while trying to appear to be enjoying the food, the dancing.

Finally, a servant clears a space in the center of the hall. Ragnar steps up, glowing with pride.

“Your majesties,” He bows. “Ladies and gentlemen. On this, the 500th anniversary of our peace with Vanaheim, I come to offer a display of magic. Magical studies would not have progressed as far as they have without the cooperation between these two great realms.”  
Loki could burst with glee. He couldn’t have chosen better timing. A feast honoring the union between Asgard and Vanaheim, represented by his parents’ marriage, by his and his brother’s very embodied existence. This failure will be seen as a slight against the whole of the royal family. It’s more perfect than he could have imagined.

“As a tribute to that collaboration, I present to you - the phoenix, conjured from the flame.”

A tittering of interest in the crowd. Ragnar raises his hands and the power builds. An orange ball forms in the air above his head, starting to grow as it spins.

A touch of magic, just enough to throw off the spell. Ragnar’s eyes widen as the gathered power starts to slip from his control.

Frigga’s sharp eyes catch the slip. “Odin…”

It explodes, faster than they can react. But Loki - having been the cause of this conflagration - is ready. In an instant he is stepping forwards, gathering his power to make a shield around the failed spell, protect the crowds from the worst of the explosion. It hurts, burns through his magic like dry paper, but he holds it together until his father can raise Gungnir and dissolve the spell.

The crowds have taken cover, bowed down to the floor. Ragnar alone stands, looking shocked at his misfortune.

The whispers are already starting.

“Arrogant.”

“…out of control…”

“…been like this for years…”

“…but the prince’s shield saved us…”

“…containing a phoenix…advanced magic…”

Loki smiles. Blood drips hot down his face from his nose. He makes sure that Ragnar sees. That he knows that Loki was the architect of his destruction.

His knees give way. Thor catches him.

“I cannot believe this was your idea of a good plan,” He hisses. “Oh wait, I do believe I _can_, you foolish, reckless-”

“You’re one to talk,” He slurs. “It had to be _dramatic_.” Thor’s face blurs and darkens before him.

“You are an _idiot_.” Thor eases him to the ground, hovers over him. He puts one hand on Loki’s cheek and grips his arm tight with the other. “Brother?”

“Not sure…can stay conscious…”

“Stay with me!” Thor shakes him. “Stay awake!”

“Mm, I think not.”

And he faints.

He wakes up in bed, his mother by his side. It takes her about twenty minutes to cease scolding him.

“I will admit, that was very brave,” She finally says, with her hands on her hips. “Reckless, but brave. And I am proud of you. That was an impressive bit of spellcraft, even if it did drain you.” She rises. “I will let you rest, now. Though you will have to put up with your brother’s scolding before you can sleep more, he’s nearly as annoyed with you as I am. He’s been waiting for you to wake.”

“Joy,” Loki groans and sinks back into the pillows.

“You deserve it, my foolish son, for frightening us like that.” She turns to leave.

“Mother? What’s going to happen to Ragnar?”

Frigga stops and frowns. “Is there something else that you want to tell me about what happened tonight?” Loki doesn’t answer, just steadily meets her gaze. “He’s being banished from the court. There’s talk of binding his magic for a period of time, until he learns his lesson, but nothing’s been decided yet.” Loki keeps his expression still, though he feels a swell of triumph. “Rest, my dear. Your brother will be in in a moment.”

Thor doesn’t look precisely happy, but at least he does not yell like their mother.

“That was indeed impressive, brother,” He says when he sits on the side of the bed. “I’m sure you even planned the fainting. Very dramatic.”

“Hm. I knew I didn’t have quite enough power to contain it. Did think that it would indeed make a good exit.” His head is starting to pound. He wants to sleep. “I wish I could have seen his face.”

“It was fantastic. When he put it all together, the horror on his face. Almost as satisfying as beating him into the dirt, I will admit. I fully intend to push for his powers to be bound, at least for a few decades, and I intend to watch while they do it.”

“Good. Should be painful.”

Thor brushes back his hair. “Next time, will you come to be _before_ poison is involved?”

“I’ll do my best, brother.” He finds Thor’s hand and tugs on it. “Stay a while?”

“Of course.” Still in his formal clothes, Thor crawls beneath the covers and lets Loki curl into his chest, rest his head over his heart.

Loki falls back into a deep and dreamless sleep, feeling satisfied and triumphant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That first one I wrote on a plane a month ago and is the only one of the prompts that I didn't write in October. 
> 
> Not to be too self-critical, but this is one of the chapters where 'I wrote this all in three weeks' kind of shows through a bit. Names, actual court politics, the phoenix spell...I left kind of vague. Sorry! I still like it. XD 
> 
> Thank you to all who voted on tumblr for which prompt I should use for the final revenge! I worked in the runners up ('2. Explosion' and '17. Stay With Me') a bit too. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3
> 
> See you tomorrow!


	3. lumbering and pierced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (the Ark.)
> 
> 8\. Stab Wound. Thor's perspective on that time Loki was stabbed in the back. Literally. (There are far too many 'what ifs' in Thor's life.)
> 
> 11\. Stitches. Thor cannot help his chivalry, despite the consequences. Loki is not as amused.

_8\. Stab Wound_

“Thank you for coming with me,” Thor says to the Valkyrie as they hike their way back towards the Ark, lugging their supplies.

She shrugs in response. “Don’t mention it. What else was I going to do, go trawling around the filthy markets on this piece of shit? No thanks.”

“I hope the others had their fun. You know how curious Bruce gets, I’m sure he enjoyed himself poking around.”

Valkyrie laughs. “Hopefully he hasn’t gotten into anything too nasty. I’m sure he’ll have had enough poking around for a while, after this place.”

Heimdall meets them at the bottom of the ramp, a grave look on his face. “Your majesty,” He starts, voice cautious and warning.

Thor’s stomach drops. “What is it? What happened?”

“It’s about your brother.”

Thor groans. The Valkyrie snorts. “So, what has his highness done this time?” She asks.

“The prince appears to have gotten himself stabbed.”

_“Stabbed?!?!” _

Heimdall manages to quickly calm Thor down with assurances that the wound was not life-threatening, and directs him to the infirmary where Loki is resting. Thor enters to find his brother lying on his stomach, head on his folded arms.

“_Norns_, Loki,” Thor breathes. “What did you _do?”_

“Always assuming I’ve _done_ something, brother,” He snaps. “So trusting.” Loki raises his head to look at him. “I did not _do_ anything, except be the victim of a random act of violence, you are always _accusing_-”

“Okay, okay,” Thor shuts him up. “I apologize for the assumption. There, happy?” He draws back the blankets and carefully peels back the bandage to check the wound. It’s already thinning, the flesh stitching itself back together. Thor frowns at the placement, directly over the spine. Strategically placed, to be fully incapacitating. Loki would have been a sitting duck, paralyzed in the street. The things that could have happened to him…Thor feels vaguely nauseous. “Have you been able to move?

“Yes, the feeling's coming back somewhat. Walking’s beyond me so far.”

“How did you get back here?” _Since I was not there to protect you_, he finishes in his head, feeling guilty. Thor carefully recovers the wound with the bandage, then pulls up thick blankets, unable to stand to look at it any longer.

Loki colors. “Well. Luckily for me, Dr. Banner was not far away.”

“Bruce? Really?”

“Yes?”

“He carried you?”

“Yes.”

“_Carried_ you?”

“_Yes_. I was able to gather enough magic to send a projection through the crowds and find him. He carried me on his back, since I could not walk. How else did you think I got back?”

“Apologies, I’m just surprised. It’s not like the two of you have ever been close.” 

“Hm. Perhaps your friend is not so cruel as to leave a helpless person to bleed out on the street, no matter how much he disliked said bleeding person. Or perhaps, he just knew you would be cross if he left me to die - _ah!_” Loki’s voice increases in pitch and tension until he cuts off with a cry of pain, dropping his forehead back to the mattress and squeezing the sheets with a white knuckle grip, muscles contracting as he rides out the pain of reattaching nerves.

Thor winces. He has suffered nerve damage before, nothing so severe as the severing of his spine, but he still knows well the torment of that burning pain. A pain that cannot even be touched by any painkillers they have on board.

Loki trembles, sweat beading at his temples and the back of his neck, breath coming in little puffs of air..

“Shh, it’s all right, brother.” Thor pulls up a stool. He sits by his brother’s head and softly strokes back his dark hair. The spasm passes, leaving Loki limp on the cot, breathing raggedly. Thor does not stop stroking his hair.

“Norns,” Loki finally gasps. “This _hurts_.”

“I know, brother,” Thor says back. “I know.”

Loki settles his head on his folded arms again, facing Thor. “The really mad thing is,” He laughs, a little deliriously. His eyes are bright, unfocused. “I really didn’t do anything. I did _nothing_. Everything else, it was always me _doing_ something - making a mistake, provoking someone. This time…I never even saw his face. A passing assailant. I truly didn’t do anything. Such a strange turn of events.”

“You didn’t…that’s not…” Thor scrubs a hand over his face. Getting into an argument about whether or not anyone ever _deserved_ suffering would not be helpful right now. He rests his hand back on Loki’s head. “I am sorry. That this has happened to you. If I knew who did this, I would-”

“Tear them to pieces for me?” Loki smiles wryly. “You can’t.”

“You doubt me?”

“I doubt your ability to find whoever did it - there are probably dozens of people with blood on their hands tonight and unless you wish to risk yourself and everyone else rooting them out, it would be useless.” Loki’s assertions are half-hearted. He can clearly already see that Thor is not intending on tearing out into the teeming streets of the city to rain down lightning and vengeance on those who had hurt his brother. He _should_ do that - how dare some brute _touch_ his family, how _dare_ they. He wishes that fury and bloodlust were the emotions he felt at this moment.

But it is not.

What he feels is _fear_.

His life had become a series of terrifying _what-ifs_. What if the assailant had stuck around? What if they had aimed higher, to the left, pierced an organ or his heart instead? What if Bruce had been farther away, unable or unwilling to help? A thousand small twists of fate to take more away from Thor. He had already lost his friends, his home, his parents - he cannot afford to risk more. He should feel anger, should go tearing after whoever harmed his little brother - but instead he just wants to gather Loki up, to _run_ with him. To never let him leave his sight again.

“Why do you think they did it?” Loki asks. “I had a few theories. But do you think perhaps it was…it was…” He trails off but Thor understands his line of thought, can read it in the way he’s tensed, not from pain this time, but his own fears.

“How could Thanos have found us here? And if he had, he would not have just sent an assassin through the shadows, would he?”

“You’re right. And he would not have stopped until he had torn this planet to its core to find me. He would not have left us alive, with the ability to escape.”

“We’ll staff extra guards on shift overnight, leave as soon as Heimdall’s finished loading the supplies.”

Loki nods tightly. “Good.”

Thor quietly vows not to leave through the night.

The night passes on. Loki finally manages to sleep, after the worse of the nerve pain has passed. He’s exhausted, magic drained from stitching himself back together, and sleeps like the dead. Thor sleeps not at all. Instead, he sits quietly with his fears, watching Loki sleep.

In the morning, Heimdall fires the engines and they take off from that destitute and crumbling planet. Loki wakes and his nerves have mostly healed, but his legs remain weak and uncoordinated, and pain him when he tries to stand.

“This is humiliating, _no_, I will not let you carry me,” He insists, sitting on the edge of the cot.

“I thought you wanted out of the infirmary.”

“Yes and I can stand.”

“Then try.” Thor watches him carefully for a moment as he tries to stand on his own, and fails, then holds out his hand. Loki takes it, pulls himself up. He teeters for a moment, then his knees fold and Thor catches him by the waist. Loki sighs heavily. Thor loops his arm around his shoulders and hoists him up. “Not carrying. See?”

“Fine.” They limp into the hall. “Do not throw me at anything.”

Thor laughs. “Promise.” Thor helps him through the halls and to their room, sitting him carefully on the bed.

“Have we left?”

“We took off early this morning.”

Loki’s shoulders slump. He sighs, relieved. “So they never came after us. It wasn’t him.”

“No.”

“We’ve dodged one misfortune. I suppose we’ll never know what the attacker’s motivations were. Ah. That might drive me a little bit mad.”

“Hopefully not too mad, brother,” Thor says. “You should get some rest.” Thor turns to go.

“Thor?” Loki’s frowning after him. “He will come. Thanos. It was not this time, but he will. He will find us, come for me-”

“But he did not this time. And when he does, we will be ready.”

“We will never be ready.”

Thor has nothing to say to that. Instead, he wraps one hand around the back of his brother’s neck, leans down and kisses his forehead. Thor helps him lay back and pulls the covers over him. “Just rest, brother.”

Then he goes to find Bruce.

He’s sitting on a crate in the storeroom, checking off items on an inventory list.

“Thank you,” Thor says, raw and open. The pure gratitude he feels is reflected in his voice.

Bruce looks up. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Is he okay?”

Thor sits opposite him. “He will be. The spine has mostly healed, there is still some pain and weakness. But he will be well. Thank you, for doing what I could not.”

Bruce gives him a skeptical look. “But you weren’t there?”

“I know I just…I just feel as though I _should_ have been…”

“You can’t watch him all the time. I know he’s your brother and you care about him, but he can mostly take care of himself. And the rest of us won’t let him do anything too stupid.”

“Thank you. Sincerely, I know what Loki has done…he’s just…”

“He’s your family. I get it. I was never really close to my family, but I can’t judge. You want to hold onto what you have left. I get it.”

Thor drops his head to his hands. “And I increasingly feel as though I cannot.” Bruce awkwardly pats him on the back.

They leave the planet to its crimes. When Thor goes to bed that night, he dreams of being there when Loki was stabbed, an absurd chivalric fantasy of slaughtering the attacker with his lightning and razing the market to the ground. He wakes, checks on Loki, and that has to be enough.

  
\- - - - - - -

_11\. Stitches_  
  
The girl’s hands are shaking as she picks up the needle. Thor eyes her warily, still holding the cloth firm over his wound.

“Are you sure…?”

The healer girl glances nervously at him. “Your majesty, I-”

The door slams open, making her jump nearly out of her skin. Loki’s expression is thunderous with fury. “Go!” He snaps at her.

“Brother, be nice,” Thor admonishes.

Loki entirely ignores him. “Go,” He insists, gesturing the young healer out of the room. “I will take care of this.”

She doesn’t need to be told a third time, fleeing with her eyes downcast. Loki takes up her place on the stool, pulling the cloth away.

“That was unnecessary, Loki.”

“I cannot believe you,” Loki fumes, replacing the cloth. He stands with a huff, going to the sink to wash his hands. “I cannot _believe_ you.”

“I was barely in any danger!” Thor says, too brightly for the fact that he can’t actually sit up from where he’s laying on the reclined chair.

“A touch to the right and that blow would have severed a nerve,” Loki cries. “A few inches farther and it would have hit your carotid artery and nothing could have saved you.”

Thor smiles fondly. Loki always got so worked up when he was frightened, reacting to fear and uncertainty with lashing anger. He’ll have to get him to apologize to the young healer later. “But it did not, brother.”

“It needs stitches.”

“I know. That’s what the young healer was going to do, before you shouted at her.” Loki only frowns and turns to the tray where the needle and sutures sit. He picks up the needle and takes the cloth away from the wound. He rinses off some of the blood and takes up the needle.

The painkillers Thor had swallowed dull the pain but do not quite do away with the sting of the needle piercing his skin, the tight ache of the flesh being pulled back together. He lets out a hiss.

“Serves you right, that you managed to injure yourself so badly when I could not use my magic to heal you,” Loki spits. “Though even with magic I’m not sure I could have closed this.”

“Oh, and how did you lose the use of your magic?” Loki pauses, looking to him with a blank expression. Thor gives him a crooked smile. “And you’re yelling at me for being reckless-”

“I was sick. I was _sick_, not picking fights on some backwater, going off on your own, fighting someone armed with knives with your bare fists, you _fool_-”

“Technically I had the lightning as well.” And that was how he had defeated them - unfortunately _after_ one snuck in a good slice to his shoulder. “And you only became so ill because you did not tell anyone that you were suffering, that that great scar on your chest was hurting you, until it got so bad you nearly _died_.” Loki concentrates on the stitches, mouth pinched very tight. “And remember the time you were stabbed, and when-”

“But I did not go _seeking_ such dangers!” Loki finally cries. “I did not run headfirst into it.”

“So you spoke to the Valkyrie?”

“Yes. And she told me that-”

“They were going to kill that pathetic creature.”

“You must be joking, Thor, you must be absolutely _joking_, you put yourself in danger for little more than a dog!”

“What was I supposed to do, Loki? Allow them to-”

“Yes! Yes, because it’s none of our business! You are the king of a scant few thousand refugees, traveling through the cosmos, in constant danger, and you cannot _throw_ away your life for a small moment of nobility! You’re not a hero anymore, Thor. You’re a king. You have to start acting like it.” Loki starts up again sewing the torn flesh together. Roughly. Thor twists his face in pain.

“Why must I be one or the other?” He says when he can speak again. “Being king means being a hero.”

“Not if it risks your life. Your people need you _alive_. I-” Loki stops, finally finished. His cheeks are flushed scarlet, his eyes looking suspiciously watery.

“I’m sorry. I am. You are right, it was reckless.” Thor rests his hand on Loki’s knee, wincing when it pulls at the stitches. “I am sorry. I will endeavor to think more of my responsibility the next time I am faced with such a situation.”

Loki nods. “I will believe it when I see it.”

“I cannot promise that I will not act the hero if the situation calls for it,” Thor grins. “But I will not leave you. _That_ I promise.”

Loki rears back, caught. “You can’t control that,” His voice is rough. “Not if you chase-”

Thor squeezes his knee. “I’ll do better. I promise. And you’ll be here to stitch me up again.” Loki looks away, expression still miserable. “Hey. Come here.” He pulls his brother into a stiff, one-armed embrace. Gradually Loki relaxes, then pulls away, wiping at an eye suspiciously.

“Well,” His voice is rough. “You should rest. I’ll be back to check on it to make sure there is no infection in a few hours.” He rises and lowers the lights. The drugs are eating their way through Thor’s consciousness, and he feels the weight of drowsiness pulling on his bones. He settles back on the cot.

“Loki,” He calls.

Loki turns back from the doorway. “Yes?”

“Go apologize to the healer.” Loki scoffs and looks away. “That is an order from your king.”

“Well, in that case,” He gives a mocking bow. “Right away, my liege.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting so late today! I had to meet friends early and what is time management haha? Happy Saturday, I hope you're all having a fun day! (I...am going to work...boo.) 
> 
> '8. Stab Wound' was obviously Thor's POV of the very first chapter of 'pain and other human sensations': ['1. Stabbed'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473503/chapters/38579372). 
> 
> And '11. Stitches' ended up being a minor follow-up to Loki's illness trilogy chapters because I was like 'oh wait why doesn't he heal this wound with magic oops.' But I think it turned into a fun little part of their argument. 
> 
> As usual, find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3


	4. what if none of this had happened?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The Raft.)
> 
> 14A. Touch Starved. Loki unravels aboard the Raft. Pain becomes a confusing concept. 
> 
> 22\. Hallucination. Thor has a question. Loki has an answer. 
> 
> [Additional Warnings: mentions of physical abuse, rape fantasy, past dubcon. and still, the restraints aboard the Raft are pretty intensely claustrophobic.]

_14A. Touch Starved_  
  
Loki thinks about fighting it tonight. He finishes eating his meager rations, is allowed to relieve himself and wash, and then glares at the hateful restraints and thinks about struggling, making it hard for them.

At least it means they would be touching him longer.

But it is equally likely that instead of pinning him down, instead of wrestling him into the jacket as he wants, they will simply drug him. Sometimes when he fights hard they simply stab him with a needle or shove a mask against his face that forces foul-tasting gas into his lungs and he loses consciousness. He wakes up, untold amounts of time later, back in his cell, feeling disoriented and ill.

So, after another moment’s hesitation, he quietly submits to the restraints.

“You know the drill,” The guard says, picking up the straitjacket. Loki mutely holds out his arms and allows them to wrap him in the garment that pins his limbs to his body. They lace it up tight, almost uncomfortably so. He can’t quite take a deep breath in, even before they place the muzzle over his mouth. Then the cold metal of the ankle shackles and they push him down the hall towards the cell. They chain him back to the wall and leave him alone.

Not once had their flesh touched his.

He feels ice cold.

He shifts in the chains, trying not to think about how uncomfortable he is. His knees ache and throb, pressed against the hard tile floor. His muscles twitch and go into spasm. He tugs a little bit at the jacket to try and pull out the ache but it’s no use. It doesn’t budge. He leans forward, as much as the chains will allow, and tries to breathe as deeply as he can.

_Think of something else_, he tells himself. _Think of anything else_. But his mind just keeps spinning back to the constant, low-level pain he feels. Or his desperate need to be touched, even for just a moment.

For the past few decades, Loki had hated to be touched. At first, it was a manifestation of how he was pulling back from his friends, his self-imposed isolation from them. Then, after the Void and the torments he found there, he couldn’t bear it. Every slight brush of skin against his felt like a prelude to more pain. He had to set that revulsion aside on Sakaar, had to put up with being casually, possessively touched by the Grandmaster and the others in his court if he wanted to blend in.

Then came the Ark, and things did get better. Thor didn’t know, at least at first, what he had suffered, why he shied away from touches. In Thor’s way, he didn’t really notice and so just stormed through. The first time was the embrace after the coronation, that Thor wouldn’t let him escape for a long time. When Thor finally let him pull back, he smiled, eyes glassy and pressed his hand to the back of Loki’s neck like he always used to. Loki’s knees had gone weak. He leaned into it, seeking more. For the first time in years, it felt good, it felt right to be touched with gentleness and nothing more. He had nearly wept, so instead, he pulled out of Thor’s grip and mumbled something about going to help the healers.

He almost thought that was it, that his brother would stop after that first emotional embrace but he didn’t. He returned to the way they used to be before it had all fallen apart between them. Gentle touches to get his attention. Affectionate pats to the back. Even when the touches weren’t necessarily _good_ they still felt right. They didn’t hurt. Not even the rough grabs to his arm to get him to stop talking during arguments. Not even when he started sleepwalking, when he hurt himself and Thor had to hold him still while his mind spun and his hand throbbed, not even that had repulsed him. He sank into it. 

Now he doesn’t know what to think, only that he’s desperate to be touched. He doesn't even care how anymore. He's equally desperate for Thor’s soft, gentle pats to the back or warm embraces, and violent strikes against him. Even the thought of being beaten by his guards becomes a sort of fantasy. They never touch him, but sometimes while drifting in his chains, he fantasizes about the guards grabbing him and beating him with their bare fists.

Sometimes he even thinks of the Grandmaster, and his overwhelming, constant touching. He had absolutely _loathed_ being touched by that lecherous creature but tolerated it for the power and position it gave him. Now he finds he misses it.

Sometimes he imagines it all goes farther than just bruising hits or possessive grabs. He imagines himself fighting and struggling, while the guards strip off his clothes and take turns forcing themselves on him. He vividly calls to mind the times he had given in as the Grandmaster had taken him to his bed, laid back and allowed him to do whatever he wanted to his body.

That line of thought just leaves him feeling uncomfortably aroused, and disgusted with himself for finding it arousing at all. He utterly _hates_ himself for it, feels absolutely _sick_ with himself until the feeling passes and he's just empty again.

This particular evening, he cannot stop thinking about the guard slapping him. He fixates on the scene. He would say something mouthy and insulting. The guard would slap him across the cheek. It would jolt his head to the side, sting. Rewind. Again. He plays it over and over in his head, unable to think of anything else. He regrets not fighting the restraints. Perhaps tomorrow.

After a while, he forcibly makes himself stop imagining it and turns his attention to his magical connection to Thor. He sets aside the sick guilt he feels at himself for desiring the guard’s abuse and strains for the only comfort he has left.

Thor’s mind is spinning as well tonight. He's thinking, wondering something. It takes a little bit more magic but he manages to get a clearer picture of his brother’s question. Ah, a perfect distraction.

He knows he shouldn’t do it, knows he’ll probably regret doing it afterward when he comes back to himself. When he’ll be no doubt sick with the drain on his magic and the denial of what he truly wants.

He does it anyway. He already has so many regrets, what’s one more?

He shuts his eyes tight and wriggles around the bindings on his magic and lets it wash over him.

  
\- - - - - - -

_22\. Hallucination_  
  
The climate control on the Raft makes a constant, white noise, not unlike the hum of the Ark’s engines. It should lull Thor to sleep, but instead, it only serves to intensify his loneliness. On the Ark, there were so many sounds, but they were accompanied by the people around him. Thor is utterly alone now, in his small cell. There are no other sounds, no other smells, no warmth, no other _anything_.

There is, however, the brush of Loki’s magic in his mind.

Loki feels particularly strained, reaching for him tonight. Thor tries to distract, tries to soothe with only the contact of their minds to do it, as he has for so many nights. Thor comforts him and the tension in the connection eases.

Tonight, he’s distracted by a question, one that he’s been thinking about for some time, now that he doesn’t have anything else to do, little else to think about.

“What did you think was going to happen?" He says aloud to the empty cell. "Back then? The night of the coronation. The night I was banished. What was your _plan?_ You always had a plan. What was it then? You brought the Jotuns into Asgard, what next?”

Loki’s brush against his mind asks permission. Thor grants it. Then the cell dissolves around him.

In a blink, he is fighting a Frost Giant and snow is swirling around him. He turns his head to see his friends fighting at his side. It all rewinds.

He’s on the Bifrost bridge, riding out towards Heimdall, with his friends at his side. They don’t even make it halfway. There is no confrontation with the Watcher on the bridge. Instead, Einherjar surround them, cut them off.

“We are to escort you back, my prince,” Their captain says firmly. Thor glances at their weapons, at the uncertain looks on his friends’ faces.

He looks to Loki and his heart breaks a little. He looks so young now, his face smooth and expressionless. Thor had nearly forgotten how neatly slicked back he used to insist on keeping his hair, now that he’s let it grow longer and naturally curl. Loki’s expression is not uncertain, not worried, but grimly satisfied.

_We were not meant to reach the bridge_, his voice whispers in Thor’s mind. No, not quite. It is more like he gets the impressions of the words in his mind. He just knows_. I’d sent a guard to tell. We were never meant to go to Jotunheim…_

They are marched back to Asgard by the guards, the princes pulled into their father’s private study. Odin is in a rage. Thor must stand and take it. He even argues back, though the words are pulled from him by the memory of anger rather than present will.

“They must pay for what they have done - you taught me-”

“I taught you to be a king!” Odin roars back. “A king who will lead his people, not pointlessly risk lives by courting war.”

“You taught me that the Jotuns must learn to fear me - as they once did you. I swore I would slay them and you still allow them to insult me, to disrespect me who should rule them-”

“You are cruel and vain! You are a fool and unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed! You are unworthy of the throne you so foolishly assume is yours! Now get out of my sight before I think better of your punishment - or lack thereof.” Odin scowls down at him. “I should banish you. I should lock you away. But I will not. Now go!”

Cowed, Thor retreats. He burns with fury, stalking through the halls back to his quarters. Loki follows him like a shadow. The Warriors Three are quietly waiting for him, already drinking wine. The fire is built up, the lamps lit. The sun outside the windows has almost entirely set. It is a peaceful scene, but Thor feels no peace. Only anger, frustration. He is angry that his revenge has been stolen from him, hurt by his father’s scolding. His friends try to calm his fury, but it still takes a long time.

“Come and drink, Thor,” Volstagg holds out a glass of wine.

“We’ve got stronger libations as well.” Hogun pours a small glass of clear liquid and hands it over.

“The day’s at an end,” Fandral reminds. “We lost, but there will be other chances.” Sif sits quietly in the corner, sipping wine and watching with sharp eyes.

“Father will see,” Loki says. “Will recognize it eventually. When you’re ready to be king.” Thor sees the double edge to his brother’s words. _When_ he is ready to be king, not that he is currently.

_We would get you roaring drunk, until you’d forgotten everything. In the morning, Volstagg was going to invite you hunting, I’d already arranged it, subtly planted the suggestion so even he did not know I was behind it. You would have been hurt, but moved on. I thought perhaps with time, you would truly have been ready._

Thor feels the passage of time, though the conversation, his own actions, do not leave much of a memory in his mind. Like Loki’s words, it’s more of an impression than anything.

“It will come in time, brother,” Loki says softly. “It will all come in-“ Then Loki makes a choked noise in his throat, takes a step back and he appears for a second as he did the last time Thor saw him in reality. Drawn, pale, with his long, unruly hair no longer slicked back but tied in a bun with a single braided strand running down to his shoulder. His clothing for a moment is shapeless, grey cloth, then he takes another step back and again appears as he did that last day in Asgard, young and laced tight, too put together. The expression on his face remains fearful, though. He looks straight to Thor and says in a raw voice, “They’ve turned out the lights.”

“Who turned out the lights, my prince?” Fandral asks. There is a moment of silence as the Warriors Three stare at Loki. Sif crosses her arms and looks at him with suspicion.

Loki shakes his head. “No one. Nothing.”

The conversation moves on. Sif remains suspicious, quiet. The others bring out more wine and the mood shifts. Thor again feels the passage of time with no distinct impression of what was happening. The sky fully darkens, stars lighting up the black. They relax. Thor still feels the sting of failure, of his father’s scolding, but things ease.

Late that night, the Warriors Three depart for a tavern while Thor begs off. Sif hangs back a moment before following.

“I’m sure he had something to do with this,” She whispers to Thor. “I’m sure of it. There was no way the Jotuns could have gotten so deep into the vaults without assistance. There is a traitor in the house of Odin.”

_I never believed I could trick her. I always knew she would see through me. I only hoped you would take my side long enough for the evidence to fade, and for things to calm. _

Sif leaves and then Thor is alone with Loki.

Loki pours him another glass of wine. Thor rants and raves again about their Father’s unjust decision to postpone the coronation, furious that he failed in his attempts at revenge on the Jotuns. The words that spill from his lips are vile and hateful. It makes Thor sick to say them, though he cannot stop. And he knows that this is _precisely_ what he would have said back then.

Loki just smiles patiently and says again, “It will come in time, Thor.” Loki reaches across and grasps his arm tightly. His eyes are sharp, boring into Thor’s. “Never doubt that I love you. And that I will support you when the time comes.”

And he had, in the end. A coronation that was thousands of miles away from the first, interrupted one. Loki had stood quietly at his side on a ship moving through the cosmos. He had caught the bottle cap Thor threw, he had _stayed_, and when they embraced, he whispered in Thor’s ear, “Congratulations, your majesty.”

_You weren’t ready_, Loki’s voice in his head again. _It would have been a disaster, a bloodbath, and you know it. I was just trying to protect you, protect Asgard. Protect myself. No one would listen to my warnings, all I had left were tricks. I knew it was dishonest but I thought I was doing the right thing._

The tension in the room eases into quiet camaraderie. Like how they used to be, before the escalating fights that led to the end. Thor gets roaring drunk - but also remains strangely lucid. He rises and makes for bed.

“Thor?” Loki’s voice is not the smooth, casual voice he has been using all night, but the tense, frightened voice that Thor last heard him use when he embraced him one final time before they were locked away. Thor turns back and sees Loki as he truly is, not as he was on the night of his failed coronation. Like the flicker before, but this time the image doesn’t change back. His eyes are wide and watery, frightened. He reaches out with both hands to Thor. “_Brother_.” His voice breaks.

Thor rushes back to him, gathers him tightly in his arms. It feels so real, like everything has in this illusion of Asgard. Loki feels warm and solid against him. He is trembling, clinging desperately. Thor holds him so tight he for a moment fears that he’s going to crush him. But Loki hugs back just as hard.

“I’m sorry,” He moans in Thor’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen, we were never supposed to make it to Jotunheim, you were never supposed to be banished, _I’m sorry_.”

“I accept…I accept your apology.”

“I didn’t even _want_ the throne - it wasn’t…that’s not what I was doing, not at first. Then I just lost control of _everything_ and I couldn’t stop it and Mother _handed_ Gungnir to me and I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know who I even was, it was so absurd, a Frost Giant on the throne of Asgard, and I thought…I thought if you knew, you would kill me, as soon as you had your powers back, once you found out the truth, _you’d kill me_ and I was so frightened, I didn’t know what to _do_. I’m _sorry_.”

“I accept. I know. It’s okay, it’s okay, brother.”

“I wish none of it had happened. None of it. _Norns_. I want to go home, I want to go _home_.”

“Shhh, Loki-”

Loki sobs into his shoulder and Thor can do nothing but hold him tight. “I want...”

“I know you want to go home. I know, I want it too. I wish I could take you home. I wish I could destroy this prison with my bare hands and take you from it. I wish that we had not warred as we had. I wish we had not lost so many years. But I cannot regret all of it. I cannot…you were right, in part. I was not…” He takes a deep breath and rubs Loki’s back. “I don’t think we could have avoided it. We had been set on this path a long, long time ago and there was nothing we could have done to escape it. We’ll survive this, we’ll make it through, we’ll be together again soon, I swear it.”

“It hurts.”

“What does?”

“Everything. Everything _hurts_. I just…I need…” Loki tightens his grip.

“I’m not going to let you go. I won’t let you go.”

They stand for a long time, embracing amid the illusion of Asgard. It all feels so real. Thor can hear the crackling of the fires, smell the native flowers and fruits, feels Loki breathe against him.

He closes his eyes, presses his head against Loki’s. “Brother-”

Thor opens his eyes to the clean white ceiling of his cell on the Raft. The vision has broken. He can still feel the vague impression of Loki’s body in his arms. But now his presence in his mind is diminished, faint. It must have expended him a great deal of magic to conjure such a prolonged vision. Thor feels a pulse of worry. _Okay?_ He sends through the bond.

The answering affirmation is weak, but there. It flickers, the connection between them fading with the stores of Loki’s magic. He hopes it will renew once Loki’s had a chance to rest, but it may have to wait until the next time he is allowed out of this prison, when he returns and for just a few moments is allowed to wrap his arms around him, for real this time. It’s always hard, seeing him like that, wrapped in tight restraints and muzzled, but at least it meant the renewed connection, the renewed ability to comfort him, keep him calm.

Thor turns on his side and shuts his eyes and tries to grasp at scraps of magic.

He doesn’t even dare to think of regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They deserve So Many Hugs. :-( 
> 
> If on the off chance you're reading this without having read the earlier parts of the series, this and the next chapter are referring to ['bound, at the end of the world'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570834/chapters/41411051). These two chapters might not make the most sense without having read that, but if that's the case I hope you enjoyed anyway!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3


	5. crisp wind blowing away the trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Lithuania)
> 
> 9\. Shackled. Thor has an odd dream. 
> 
> 1\. Shaky Hands. Household chores can be soothing, but they leave too much time to think. 
> 
> 20\. Trembling. Thor remembers their first days on Sanctuary. 
> 
> 9A. Hiding. Loki fixates on his anxieties.
> 
> [Additional Warnings: torture (it's Sanctuary - but not super graphic this time)]

_9\. Shackled_  
  
Thor wakes alone in bed. The sunlight is streaming through the curtains, warming his room. Loki is nowhere to be seen. He sighs, closing his eyes. Loki has not yet woken before him since they’ve been in Lithuania. Thor hopes he is okay, that he has not been disturbed by something. He raises his hand to rub his face-

And his hand is stopped. By a cold, immovable pressure on his wrists.

He opens his eyes and his heart drops into his stomach. His wrists are shackled together, a thick chain about a foot long connecting the cuffs on each wrist. He pulls back the blankets and finds his ankles equally chained together. He blinks, trying to remember what was going on. Who had chained him? Why? _Where was Loki?_

He goes downstairs.

Wanda is in the living room, reading a book, her feet propped up on the arm of the couch. The chains dangle over the side, swaying to the beat of her tapping foot. She absentmindedly runs her fingers along the chain where it rests on her stomach and turns the page. She gives him a small smile and a wave and Thor, breathless, turns into the kitchen.

Sam is the first to see him, smiling brightly. “Morning! How’s it going?”

“I was just making some tea,” Natasha says. “Want any?” They are equally bound with identical shackles, but they barely seem to notice.

“Tea…_what?_ What are you…who has done this?”

Natasha just finishes pouring the steaming tea into her mug and shuffles over to sit down at the table. “Done what?”

Steve enters, sweating and out of breath like he’s been for a run but that’s impossible with the heavy chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles. “Thor? What’s up?”

“Where’s Loki? Who has done this, why are we-”

“Hey, man, you’re getting a little agitated,” Sam extends his hands placatingly. “Why don’t you sit down?” Steve and Natasha look at him with concern.

“Where is Loki?” Thor asks again, increasingly desperate, panic constricting his chest. “Where is he?”

“Why are you freaking out, Thor?” Natasha says, chains clicking as she raises the mug of tea to her lips. “He’s where he always is. The barn.”

The grass is cold on his bare feet, the dew soaking the bottom of his pants and making the metal cold. He throws open the barn door. It squeals in the morning quiet.

Loki’s wrapped head to toe in chains, encased in them, suspended in the air like in a cocoon. His eyes are shut tight and he shifts, writhing in the chains.

Thor makes an involuntary sound, deep in his throat. A surprised cry that he chokes back. He takes another step forward, ankle shackles dragging across the wood floor. Loki’s eyes open, turn to stare at him with accusation, betrayal clear in his eyes.

_You did this to me_, Thor hears the words in his mind. Loki starts screaming behind the muzzle, a horrible, muffled scream. Just like how he had screamed on the Raft when they locked him away in the dark, the sound that Thor thinks he will never get out of his head and then-

He wakes up, gasping, in his bed. His wrists are free. Loki is still sound asleep, curled on his side, his breath whistling evenly through his nose. Thor takes a shaking breath, feeling relieved, and laughs a little at himself. The dream had been absolutely absurd but had felt so real while he was in it. It takes a few more minutes for the last dregs of anxiety to leave him, for his heartbeat and breath to ease. He touches Loki’s shoulder, reveling in the solid feeling and the warmth of his body. This is surely no dream, no illusion. They have been rescued, twice over, from their nightmares, and they were, for now at least, safe.

Thor probes the quality of the dream, looking for signs it could be some kind of prophecy. But there is nothing. There is always a chance they’ll be recaptured, a good chance that either Thanos or Ross will catch up to them and do much worse. But for now, this seems like it was truly just a nightmare.

He rubs Loki’s arm to comfort himself. Loki doesn’t stir, still soundly asleep. He takes a deep, steadying breath, resting his forehead on Loki’s shoulder for a moment. Then he rises, leaves Loki sleeping, and goes to start the day.

\- - - - - - -

_1\. Shaky Hands_  
  
Lithuania is quiet.

Thor is sure it must be loud in the city, but he’s never been to the city in this country. Only this quiet farm in the wilderness. He can almost forget, for a while, everything else. Forget about Sanctuary, about Ross and the Raft. Forget that they are _hiding_ here, not really living and that eventually they will have to move on, to avoid detection, to start seeking their people, to deal with _Thanos_. But for now he can set it all aside and just for a little while pretend that this is his life, this is his only responsibility.

This particular day dawns crisp and bright and beautiful. After Thor shakes off the dregs of the nightmare, he helps Steve chop more firewood, Sam repair a leak in the attic. He finds himself occasionally rubbing absentmindedly at his wrists. Loki wakes around noon and Thor makes sure he eats something, drink water. He leaves Loki in the living room, thumbing through a book, and goes to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

This sort of chore is the perfect, soothing, repetitive task that Thor likes about this place. Just washing the dishes, soap and warm water passing over his hands. For the moment, this is his only responsibility.

Then a wave of sadness passes over him. _This is his only responsibility_. He had been a king. It had been hard, and stressful, but there had been Heimdall’s patience, and Bruce’s ingenuity, and the Valkyrie’s knowledge and strength, Loki’s cleverness and shrewd politics. He had been taking care of an entire people, his ancestors’ legacy, his true duty. And now he is reduced to this - barely able to care for his brother, and having abandoned the rest.

“Need help with those dishes?” Steve asks, coming in from the road.

“Thank you, but I’m fine. Not much left to do.”

“Are you okay? You seem…”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“I just mean…” Steve comes and leans on the counter. “We don’t talk a lot about how you’re doing. With all of this. I know there’s a lot that happened, before you came back to Earth and we’ve been focusing on Loki but I just want to make sure…you’re doing okay.”

“Really. I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be. We can talk, if you need to.”

Thor picks up the next dish. His hands are shaking. He glances at Steve, at his bare wrists and thinks of his dream. Of everyone going about their normal day, paying no mind to the chains weighing them down. The shake in his hands intensifies.

He takes a deep breath to try and control it, and his mind goes somewhere else.

\- - - - - - -

_20\. Trembling_  
  
Thanos lets them out of the cage after five days.

They had been cramped in the tight box, folded together, since they had been taken from the Ark, their home destroyed. Thor’s legs were in constant pain from being unable to stretch out or move very much at all. He doesn’t think he would be physically able to stand, even they were not in the cage.

After five days, he wants nothing more than to be alone, to not have to be pressed to his brother, while at the same time when he cannot imagine being separated from Loki. When he tries to picture it, he feels such pure terror it makes him cling harder to Loki.

Then guilt, for wanting to leave him at all, when Loki was so undone. Loki is _terrified_. He will not meet anyone’s eyes, not the Black Order when they come to mock or interrogate them, not even Thor’s. His throat slowly heals, though his voice remains rasping and rough and his breath whistles. 

When they are alone, Loki whispers a constant stream of information about Sanctuary until he exhausts himself and falls quiet. Thor once drove himself mad wondering what had happened during Loki’s missing year between his fall from the bifrost and his appearance on Earth, and he now gets far, far more information than he ever could have wanted. He tries to take it all in, but his mind can barely absorb the horror of what Loki had suffered, all alone. He just holds him tight in their cage, listens and soothes him when he quiets, and tries to hope for escape or rescue.

Then the cage is finally opened and they are dragged out. Thor cannot stand. His legs buckle when he tries. The Black Order laughs, mocking him, and Loki steps in front of him, plainly terrified but setting it aside to protect him. Loki’s trembling, hands outstretched, placating.

“Please, Proxima, just give him a moment…don’t-”

“How cute,” The woman says. “But futile.” She says something in a language the All-Speak doesn’t translate to the creeping Chitauri guards. “Separate them.”

Thor cannot stand, but he can throw his arms around Loki’s waist and hold on. It’s no use - they’re too weak and starved to fight and are torn apart by the grasping Chitauri claws. Thor is dragged off, his legs shaking. Loki’s screams follow him down the hall.

Thor learns more about Sanctuary.

Hours later, beaten, bruised, exhausted, body and soul sore, Thor is dragged again through the halls of Sanctuary. He is tossed into a cell, a carved black hole in the stone with a barred door, and the door slams shut behind him.

“Where is he?” He gasps, getting shakily to his feet. _“Where is he?”_ There is no response, but a few minutes later, just when Thor is beginning to truly panic, there is another noise in the hall.

The Chitauri drag Loki between them. He seems uninjured but is ghost white and shaking uncontrollably. Thor catches him when he’s tossed into the cell and eases them both to the floor.

“Thank the Norns,” Loki gasps. He lets out a sob. “Thank the Norns. I thought-”

“I know. Me too.”

Loki still trembles as he examines Thor’s injuries, his bruises and cuts. He does not have any himself, except the ring of yellowing bruises around his throat, but judging by the exhausted, drained look in his eye, his magic has been bound. There are ways and ways to hurt a mage, and most will not leave any marks. He sits back, giving Thor some space, the most they’ve had in days.

They fall into silence. Thor closes his eyes against the dull ache and the exhaustion in his bones, and let’s his head fall back against the stone.

“Do you know what they want?”

Loki makes a strangled, surprised sound. “I don’t know.” His voice wavers. “Ebony Maw said nothing. I assumed they wanted to punish me for failing. I don’t know if they have another purpose, or why they have not killed me already. Or when they might. How much they want to punish me before they-” He cuts off with a ragged breath. “They said nothing to you?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not…they do that sometimes. It was…preparation, testing.”

Thor opens his eyes. Loki is still trembling, teeth chattering. His hands are twisted together, he’s digging his thumb into his palm so hard he’s going to break through the skin.

“Come here.” Thor opens his arms.

“I thought…after the cage…”

“Come here.”

Loki crawls forward, tucks himself against Thor’s chest. Thor rests his chin on top of his head, securely wrapping his arms around him.

He doesn’t say it’s going to be okay. He just holds him until gradually Loki’s trembling slows, then stops. He gives him a squeeze, presses his face to his hair and closes his eyes.

That’s how they survive Sanctuary with their sanity almost intact. Through the tortures that Thanos cooks up, through his planning and scheming and the mind games, they’d quietly curled together in the dark and gone to a place where nothing else mattered.

\- - - - - - -

“Thor?”

Thor blinks and comes back to where he is. “Sorry, friend, I was lost in thought.”

“Of course. You okay?”

“Yes.” Steve doesn’t look satisfied with his answer. “As well as can be expected, I will admit. It’s not…I don’t wish to discuss it right now. But thank you for the offer…I appreciate what you’ve done for us. I owe you a debt I can never repay. And I will come to you if I need to talk.” He offers Steve a small smile, then clears his throat. “Have you seen Loki? I should check on him.”

Steve still looks unhappy but nods out the window. “He’s in the barn. Again.”

Thor sighs. “Ah.”

“I can finish up here if you want.”

“No, quite all right, Steve. I’ll finish this, then I’ll go find him. Thank you for offering.” When he picks up the next bowl, his hands are still shaking.

\- - - - - - -

9A. Hiding  
  
Loki always tells himself he’s just going for a walk before he ends up here.

He does walk, around the edge of the cleared land. But inevitably he always finds himself drifting back to the barn. He cannot keep his gaze off of it.

So he leaves the path and trudges through the grass, slipping inside. The door is nearly invisible, but his sharp eyes pick up the edges, the hinges. He pictures what it would look like inside, the dark hole in the Earth. He pictures what it would be like to lay helpless down there as if in a grave, hiding away from those that would again bind him like a mindless beast.

His breath is short and his palms sweaty before he knows it. But he cannot look away. He just keeps staring at the door, thinking about that tight space and growing increasingly nauseous.

His fixation is interrupted by a soft sound. He likely would not have picked up on it if it hadn’t been for his already paranoid state of mind. The Black Widow was good at her job. She doesn’t seem to be a threat, but he’s not sure of what she wants. She just watches him, quietly. They stand suspended for a few minutes.

“I never thought I’d be claustrophobic,” he finally says out loud. Natasha steps out from the shadows and he gives her a wan smile. “I never minded small spaces when I was a child. I liked them even. The number of times I’d have our nurses and the servants in an uproar because I crawled under the bed or into a tight cabinet and fell asleep. Thor could always find me, though. He wouldn’t give me up, he knew I needed my space sometimes. He’d just watch all the hubbub until it got too intense - usually once our nurse began to cry, he didn’t like making her cry - he'd come find me and wake me.” He takes a shaky breath. “I always hated the dark though. I think that’s how he found me. I would leave a crack to let the light in.”

“It won’t be dark,” Natasha says, moving around the trapdoor so they’re facing each other. “The wood doesn’t fit together properly. There are gaps. It won’t be completely dark, can’t be.”

“And if they come for us at night?” Loki rubs at his palm. “They came for us at night. Thanos, Ross. They could come at night and then it would be as dark as the Void.” He blinks. “I apologize. I’m sure this is doing nothing to convince you of my sanity and good intentions.”

Natasha just shrugs. “I don’t think much could convince me of your sanity.”

“Of course,” Loki laughs, eyes stinging. “Of _course_.”

“Because no one would be sane after what happened. As for your intentions…”

“Ah. Finally. I’m assuming that the Captain sent you to figure out what I was doing. Just like before, right? They know you will see through my illusions, you won’t be tricked. So. Do you think like Stark? Do you believe I have put a spell on my brother? That I have enchanted him to rescue me, to care for me, to defend me against the better impulses of heroes? That I should likely be locked away, for protection?”

“No,” Natasha says evenly. “No, I don’t think that.”

“And why not?”

“I meant what I said, on the plane. I don’t think anyone deserved that.”

Loki cannot suppress the shudder at even the passing thought of the state he was reduced to during those months on the Raft. “But don’t you think I deserve containment? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Natasha shrugs. “I was on a walk. Saw you slip in here. Thought I’d come check in.”

“Check in?”

“Yeah. You’ve been spending a lot of time out here. It’s not good to fixate on the things that scare you.”

Loki’s eyes drift down to the trapdoor. His mouth is dry. “Why not? Everything scares me now.” He looks back at Natasha. “Why don’t you think I am a monster? After everything I did to you and your friends, in New York?”

“No one’s a monster. Not really.”

“Don’t you want revenge?”

Natasha shrugs. “Maybe once, I would have. Once, I probably would have already taken it.” Loki closes his eyes tight. She could probably kill him now. He should be able to use his magic, his raw strength, to thwart her - but he knows that he will not. He’s too paralyzed. He’d just let her do it. “You know what I’ve done in the past.”

Loki opens his eyes and laughs. “If it helps, I don’t quite remember. I remember the essence of it - the red ledger. But I don’t recall the details. There are so many things about that time that I just don’t remember with any clarity. My head…_throbbed_ the whole time. Words spilled from my mouth, half foolish poetics and half absolute drivel. I was trying so hard to win - the rest is a blur. So,” He opens his eyes and meets her gaze. “If you’re worried that I’m going to air your past indiscretions to the whole world, you needn’t be.”

“I kind of did that myself a few years ago. I don’t know if you saw the testimony…”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, it was certainly the revelation.” She smiles crookedly. “I had the chance, a long time ago, to be something better. I think you deserve that chance. So you can stop avoiding me - I’m not going to hurt you or turn on you, and I’m not just…sitting here fantasizing about revenge or whatever else you think I’ve been doing.”

“Thank you,” He says earnestly.

“Now, can we go back inside? If I keep finding you sneaking out here, I _will_ betray you - to Sam, who no doubt has a whole workbook about fixating on anxieties he’ll walk you through.”

Loki laughs. “Certainly.”

“He thinks you don’t notice what he’s doing.”

“Oh, I do. But…it’s sort of nice, that he’s trying. He is very kind.”

“Yes. Very. Almost as nuts as Steve, but he’s a real nice guy. Good in a pinch, doesn’t ask too many questions.”

“Ah, how we assess character.”

“Yes, the best character traits to people like us.” There’s a moment of silence, but it is not awkward. It feels like the ice has been broken between them. One more cause for anxiety eliminated. Though Loki’s eyes still drift towards the floor.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence. “Oh,” Thor says when he sees Natasha. “Oh, I apologize for interrupting. I was simply checking…”

“No worries.” Natasha smiles. “We were just heading back to the house. Right?”

Loki nods. She pushes past him, giving him a reassuring smile. She pats Thor on the shoulder as she passes.

“Are you all right?” Thor asks, sounding a bit breathless. Loki takes in the sight of his brother. Thor’s face is drawn, tired. There’s a small tremor in his hands.

“I’m fine.”

“I know you’re afraid, but it’s just a last resort - it’s unlikely we’ll have to use it, and even if we do, I’ll be right there-”

“I know, Thor. I know.” He gives Thor a faint smile. “I know you’ll be there. Are you all right?”

Thor looks confused. “Of course,” He says with a tense voice. “Of course I’m all right.”

Though, he clearly is not.

Push and pull. Light and dark. Loki fixates on his fears, obsesses on them, while Thor pretends they don’t exist. That’s always been their way.

They start back towards the house, leaving the barn behind.

“Thor, wait,” Loki stops him halfway across the field. Thor turns back towards him, a question on his face. Loki closes the gap and throws his arms around Thor’s neck. Thor’s arms wrap around his back. “You don’t always have to be fine. I know what you’re doing.”

Thor sighs, his grip tightens. He rests his head against Loki’s, pressing them closer together. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe if you stop saying it like that, I’ll eventually believe you.”

Thor chuckles. He brings one hand up to Loki’s head; it shakes as it strokes back his hair. “I just want to protect you.”

“I know, brother. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad babies, being sad in Eastern Europe. :-( At least there are many hugs! See! For real this time.
> 
> Also, scheduling update: 
> 
> Okay, two things happened. 1) This was originally eight chapters until I decided to combine the last two into one because they ended up having a much similar theme than originally. 2) I got my posting date for the Big Bang and it was during this week so I said to myself 'okay that's great then you don't have to change the posting schedule, you just won't post a whumptober chapter on the Friday you post the Big Bang, works out.' And you know what I did? I posted a chapter the day I posted the Big Bang. Because I completely forgot about all of this. So I'm one short and the last chapter I _really_ want to post on Halloween because it is very spooky. Therefore I'm going to skip Wednesday and you'll get the last chapter Thursday - but! It's 10k words long! It's very spooky! Perfect Halloween reading! Please forgive me.
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3
> 
> See you tomorrow!


	6. fear, the hungry beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (After Thanos)
> 
> 13\. Adrenaline. A shot rings out. A window shatters. Thor has a hard time letting go. 
> 
> 24\. Secret Injury. Thor keeps a secret from his brother. To protect him. Of course, it just makes everything worse.
> 
> [Additional warnings: gunshots, panic attacks, vague mentions of past torture, other traumatic events]

_13\. Adrenaline_  
  
Human bullets are unlikely to kill them.

Thor knows this. Human-made bullets would have to be very unluckily placed to do any real damage beyond the superficial, and even a strike directly to the heart or spine was unlikely to be fatal, with their magic. No, human bullets were not likely to kill them.

The knowledge of this does not stop the flood of panic when the first sharp shots ring out, when Thor watches one of the mortal guards fall dead in an instant, blood and brains spattering out the back of his skull. The crowd erupts into chaos, the guards push the speaker down, and the window above Loki’s head shatters.

It’s all over very quickly, and Thor comes back to himself.

“Brother,” Loki’s voice trembles. “Thor, let me go, I’m all right.” Thor’s body is curled around Loki’s, holding him tight, covering him. Thor brings his hand up to ruffle his hair as he manages a deep breath in. “Brother…”

“Right,” Thor says, voice strangled. “Right, I-”

The Valkyrie’s there then, her hand tight on his arm. “Your majesty, let him go, we should get out of view.” He’s panicking in the public eye. A king, panicking, they cannot allow it. Numb, shaking, he manages to unwind his protective grip on his brother, keeping a hand on him under the guise of helping him up. They are shown backstage, to a small corridor, where they have a modicum of privacy.

“Thor - you okay?”

“I’m _fine_,” He snaps, pacing back and forth before them. He has the urge to run, to fight, to snap something in half with his bare hands.

“You’re sparking,” Loki says. He too is pale, sweaty, clearly shaken. “You need to control yourself before you electrocute something or some-”

“I will,” Thor snarls. The power threatens to overwhelm him, whispers to him to go find whoever dared threaten his family’s life and make them pay, be sure no one could ever hurt them again-

The mortal authorities had taken care of that, however. He has no target for his fear, for the anger and pain and the need to act.

His heart is beating thunderously in his chest, his breath coming short. He feels sick to his stomach and there’s a sour taste in his mouth. They’re staring at him, gazes piercing. “I’m fine,” He gasps and does not sound fine. “Sorry. Fine.”

“Brother, perhaps you should sit-”

Thor doesn’t have much choice in the matter, as his knees finally buckle. He catches himself on the wall, then slides shakily to the floor, his vision blurs. He sees Loki wave the Valkyrie off, telling her to give them a moment, and then he comes to side beside him. Thor cannot help himself, roughly seizing him in his arms and squeezing. Loki lets out a little yelp but does not struggle or move to pull away.

“Sorry,” Thor whispers softly. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Loki’s hand grips his wrist. “We’re safe.”

Thor lets out a watery laugh. “I know. I know.” His breath shakes but with Loki in his arms, he starts to feel the adrenaline ebb. “I promised you, I _promised_ that it would be over. Once we won. I promised that you would be safe.”

“And I am," Loki says slowly.

“I have to protect…protect…”

“I know, Thor. I know.

“I _promised_. No one would touch you again.”

“Thor, you’re doing your-”

“Don’t you dare say it!” He is suddenly angry again, not at his brother, not even really at whatever failed assassins took the shots. He’s just angry at the injustice of it all, that even now, after Thanos, after everything, they still could not rest. He still had to remain vigilant, still had to fight to protect his brother, fight desperately to eke out even the slightest glimpse of peace in their lives.

The panic, the rush of adrenaline, gradually recedes. Loki says nothing more to try to comfort him, but his presence works anyways. Thor gradually calms, and he finally presses an apologetic kiss to the top of Loki’s head.

“We can go now,” He whispers and releases him. “Sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize,” Loki says. “You’ve had to put up with me panicking over far smaller things than this.” Loki gets up, offers a hand. “Let’s go home.”

Thor is still nauseous and shaky in the aftermath of the flood of adrenaline. He nods. “Let’s go home.”

They will fly back to New Asgard with the Valkyrie. They will eat a quiet meal and drink warm, mulled wine before the fire as night falls, and go to sleep in warm beds. Without the nagging voice of panic in his ear, Thor remembers that their life is not all chaos, not anymore. There is stability, even if there is still the occasional danger.

Thanos is gone. The universe is free of him.

They _are_ at peace.

Mostly.

\- - - - - - -

_24\. Secret Injury_

“I have a favor to ask,” Thor says.

The Valkyrie looks at him, where he sits in the back of the ambulance, icepack held to his bruised and cracked ribs, and raises her eyebrows. “What is it?”

“Don’t tell Loki.”

“Don’t tell Loki what?” She sounds wary, with an underlying tinge of anger. Thor winces. “Don’t tell Loki I watched you get smacked around by one of those fucking mechanical creatures, watched you nearly get crushed to death-”

“Exactly,” Thor says gravely. His ribs and back ache something fierce, making breathing painful. His head hurts now too, probably from where he hit it against the ground. He feels wretchedly exhausted. “He does not need to know. I will be fine in a few days.”

“Then why doesn’t he need to know?”

“Because it will only upset him. He’s doing so much better, Val.” She folds her arms across her chest and looks away. “He’s not so afraid that this is all an illusion, that it will all fall apart at a breath. The nightmares have even gotten better. You remember what he was like, after everything settled. How panicked and fearful he was, how he couldn’t be alone for more than a few minutes, how he screamed at night. I thought…I thought he was going to come apart at the seams and nothing I could do would _fix_ it. The pain and bruises will fade. I will not allow my foolish injury to undo months of work, months of steady improvement.”

The Valkyrie sighs and shakes her head. But finally reluctantly agrees. “I suppose you have a point.”

Thor presses on. “Knowing will only bring him pain, bring him fear, and I won’t do that to him. Not when we have a chance of building a life here. One finally free from all those shadows that have haunted us.”

“Fine. I won’t tell him. I think _you_ should, and I don’t like lying to him. But I won’t be the one to tell him.”

Thor’s ribs throb. He feels bruised and sore and tired. But relieved. “Thank you.”

They return by jet to New Asgard, landing on the airstrip on the far side of the island without incident.

“You sure you don’t want me to call for a ride for you, majesty?” The Valkyrie eyes him with a crooked smile and raised brow as if she doubts he’s going to make it across the island. He waves her off.

“I’m fine.” Besides, it will look worse if he cannot make it across the small island on foot. The two other times they’ve left since establishing their new kingdom, he’d made this trek, and does not want to raise suspicion by having to drive.

They walk down the center road. Thor greets the people as they pass. All wave warmly back at him as they work their small gardens or play with their children in the yards. It had only been months since they arrived here, but they were adapting quickly, as they had aboard the Ark.

The day is sunny but with a slight bite in the air, the breeze cool on their skin. As they approach the largest building - the structure that functions as royal residence and communal meeting space. There is a large grand hall, made of smooth, dark wood, and their house attached.

Loki leans against the doorframe, smiling crookedly and watching their approach. Thor is still tired and aching, but cannot help his relief at coming home and gives his brother a true smile.

“Welcome back,” Loki says. “Did you have fun?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t believe after everything Midgard is still experimenting with artificial intelligence. Clearly it is far beyond them. Perhaps in a couple centuries.”

“Hm, perhaps. But until then, we’ll just have to help them control it.”

Loki moves towards him in a way that suggests he’s planning on embracing him. Thor catches him at the last moment. He grips his arm with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, keeping him at a distance, and instead moves to kiss his forehead. Uncertainty flickers across Loki’s face, but Thor just keeps up the easy, reassuring smile on his face.

“Did you speak to Stark?”

“Did we speak to Stark?” The Valkyrie snorts. “Oh, he was being spoken to.”

“It wasn’t technically his fault this time, and he was very helpful in shutting down the mainframe to destroy the controls. Sam was there too, asked after you.”

“Hm.” Loki brightens a bit at the mention of Sam.

“He said they might come when the weather’s a little warmer. Steve and Bucky want to see what we’ve built.”

“I doubt they’d be impressed if they had seen Asgard at its peak. But I’m sure they’ll enjoy the scenery.” Loki’s eyes are boring into his. He can tell something’s wrong.

Thor kisses his forehead again to reassure. “It will be fun. Come, I want to set down my things, and I’m sure you have a full report of everything that transpired while I was away and you were acting as regent.”

“I will save you some time, brother: nothing. Nothing happened. It was abysmally boring. Heimdall’s roped me into some reorganizing project, I’ve no idea why. There was nothing wrong with our old system…”

They turn to go in. Thor glances back at the Valkyrie as she follows. She shakes her head at him and he frowns.

_It’s fine_, he mouths back. Her mouth twists and she turns to go up the stair to her room without another word.

He makes it through dinner, but only just. Darkness falls and dinner ends, and the Valkyrie volunteers to clean up with an accusatory look at him. Thor begs tiredness when Loki begins moving towards the living room.

“It was a very long day.”

Loki’s expression is unreadable. “Of course. Well. Goodnight, brother.”

“Goodnight.”

In his room, Thor removes his shirt gingerly, gritting his teeth against a groan. In the mirror, his reflection is more horrifying than he had thought. Black and blue, mottled and raw skin stretches from his chest, down his side, to his hip. He prods a rib and stifles a gasp at the sudden flash of pain shooting through his side. It steals his breath for a moment. He takes two of the pills he’d been given in London, downing them with a gulp of water. He heads towards the bed and then at the last moment, turns towards the door.

Sometimes Loki slips into his room at night, seeking quiet comfort after a nightmare. Thor does the same, sometimes having to desperately check that those he loves are still _there_, still whole and safe. They’ve vastly improved from the early days of their recovery, when they could not be separated for a moment, but sometimes they still need reassurance. But tonight…he cannot let Loki in.

It’s been a few weeks since the last time Loki had had a nightmare that bad. It was improbable that he would tonight. At least that’s what Thor tells himself as he turns the lock on the door. Loki probably wouldn’t need him, he probably would never know that Thor locked the door against him.

When they had officially moved in, he had thought the locks foolish. There had been no locks on the doors of the Ark, and now that the greatest threat to the universe had been eliminated - the Titan was dead - it seemed useless. What could touch him here? He could never have imagined that he would find himself using it against his brother - to _protect_ him.

He just _can’t_ let Loki see him like this. Not after all the progress he’s made. So he locks the door and finally collapses into his bed.

The drugs do their work stealing away the pain and he slips into a deep, foggy sleep. He wakes in the morning feeling much improved and with the vague memory of hearing footsteps in the hall.

Thor dresses in soft, casual clothing, and goes down into the kitchen. “Good morning,” He says brightly. Loki has a mug of steaming coffee held between his hands. He offers a small smile that falls quickly away and says nothing. The Valkyrie enters, carrying an empty mug. “Nice day out?” Thor asks.

“Gorgeous. Heimdall and I were up early, had coffee on the beach. He’s started reorganizing the storage, you know how he is. You two slept rather late.”

“Glad to be back in my own bed, I suppose.”

Thor and the Valkyrie make small talk as it becomes more and more apparent that Loki is not engaging in conversation. Not speaking, not looking at them. He doesn’t really seem angry, just uninterested in the conversation, or perhaps distracted by his own thoughts.

Loki rises and sets his mug in the sink. “Excuse me, I have some things to attend to. I’ll be back for lunch.” He doesn’t sound angry but doesn't really look at either of them. Thor watches him walk out, uneasiness stirring in his gut.

Thor looks to the Valkyrie. She shrugs. “I didn’t say anything. He doesn’t know shit. But maybe, _maybe_ your brother is not as unobservant as you seem to have convinced yourself he is, and he can sense there’s something you’re not telling him. Because he’s actually probably one of the most observant and calculating people I’ve ever met, and he can spot a liar from ten clicks away.” She rises from her chair. “I’m going to check on how Heimdall’s doing in the root cellar.”

Loki’s attitude does not change throughout the rest of the day. He remains polite but aloof and Thor thinks he’s going to go mad. He desperately wants to seize him by the shoulders and shake him and demand that he _stop this_ \- but then he’d likely have to reveal his injury, and they’d fight, and things would take five steps backward. So he stays quiet and affects a forced cheer and tries to ignore the simmering tension.

It seems to work a bit, and he’s feeling well enough to retire for a drink in the living room. Loki even loosens up then, but the tightness around his eyes doesn’t go away either.

When they split off for bed, Thor catches him by the arm, unable to help himself anymore.

“Is everything all right, Loki?”

Loki sets his jaw. “Of course, brother. What could be wrong?”

“I just wanted to be sure. Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Loki nods. “You too.” And pulls out of Thor’s grip before Thor can move to hug him goodnight.

Thor carefully does not lock his door that night, and sleeps in a sweatshirt to cover the slowly yellowing bruises. He takes another of the pain meds and falls again into a deep, secure sleep, not disturbed for a moment.

In the morning, he starts awake from a fuzzy dream and takes a moment to shake of the dregs of sleep and the drugs.

It’s very early, the sun just rising. Something feels off, in the way that he’s learned to listen to. A mixture of instinct and a new understanding of what premonition feels like sends him to Loki’s door. It’s not latched. He pushes it open.

Loki is not in his bed. His covers are disturbed, the bed clearly slept in, but Loki himself is nowhere to be seen.

Thor’s first thought is panic. A more rational voice tells him that Loki had always been a light sleeper, liked rising early and taking walks, and there was no reason to conclude that something was wrong. But after Loki’s odd behavior and the tension between them - he needs to find him. Now. He goes searching, a hum of anxiety dogging him.

It doesn’t take long. He quickly finds his brother, sitting on the stairs just outside the front door. It’s cold outside, damp in the early morning light, and Loki is dressed only in thin pajamas, barefoot. He’s slumped over, leaning against the rail, and sound asleep.

“Norns, Loki,” Thor says softly. He crouches down and touches his shoulder. “Brother?”

Loki starts awake with a small gasp, shying away from Thor. He blinks and sits up, casting a wild look around. “Thor? I…shit.”

“You were sleepwalking again?”

“I certainly did not intend to fall asleep on the stairs.”

Thor’s frown deepens. “But did you-”

“I don’t remember getting out here, so yes, I must have been sleepwalking.” Loki won’t look at him. He sighs heavily and shuts his eyes.

“Have you been…when I’ve been gone, do you remember…?”

“No, I think…I think this is the first time since…since the Ark…” He brings his hand up to his head, pressing on his forehead like it pained him.

“Have you hurt yourself?” Loki shakes his head but doesn’t protest when Thor takes his hands and turns them over, pulling up the sleeves to check for injury. Loki shivers.

“Just cold. Help me up?”

“Do you want to go back to bed?” Loki nods. “Come on.” Thor takes his hand and pulls him up.

The rest of world is still and quiet, this early in the morning. It’s peaceful and even Thor leans into the tranquility. He stays calm. Loki even doesn’t seem alarmed by his renewed sleepwalking - just tired. Thor escorts him back to his room and Loki gives him a wry half smile. “You don’t have to tuck me in.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“I don’t care.” He flops back onto the bed and Thor _does_ tuck him in, throwing the covers back over him. “Really, you don’t have to stay, I likely won’t go wandering again. Go on.”

Instead, Thor sits on the edge of the bed. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I clearly haven’t been sleeping well.”

Thor strokes back his hair. “Are you ill? You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

“It’s probably just stress. That sometimes causes things like this. It’ll be fine.”

“Get some rest. I’ll take care of your duties today. Don’t worry about it.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

Thor stays until he falls asleep, then goes on to start his day.

It’s the first fully normal day since he’s been back from the mission, full of chores and meetings. His ribs and side still pain him, so there are some things he cannot face doing. Loki was supposed to bring in the laundry, linens that had been hung on the lines behind the house. Thor takes one look at it, imagines the ache that reaching up to retrieve the cloths would cause, and resolves to do it later, once the pain meds have done their job.

Loki sleeps until almost noon, reminding Thor of the scant few weeks they had spent in Lithuania after being rescued from the Raft. That concerns him, but he’s soon pulled into a meeting about planting and doesn’t get the chance to check on him.

He finds Loki in the afternoon, dressed and hair neatly pulled back from his face, gathering the laundry Thor had neglected.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Loki answers tersely. Turns to look at Thor with a closed look on his face. “You didn’t bring it in.”

“Apologies, I was distracted. Everything else is done, allow me to help you.” Thor bends to pick up the basket, wincing as a sharp spasm passed through healing muscles and ribs. He has to stand still, pressing a hand to his side for a moment.

Loki finishes gathering the fabric and turns, just as Thor drops his hand and straightens up, hiding his pain. “It’s fine. I will finish it.”

“Loki…are you upset with me?”

“For not doing the laundry? Of course not.” But he certainly sounds upset. There’s some tension there that Thor can’t name.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Loki brushes his hair back. The wind pulls strands out of the tie that holds it back. “Fine. It’s just…”

“What? Brother?”

Loki turns back towards him, mouth set in an unhappy line. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“You know I want you to tell me if something’s bothering you.”

“I know, Thor.” He sighs. “I know.” He sounds perhaps a little annoyed and tired, which _would_ make sense given his disturbed sleep.

“Okay.” Awkwardness hangs between them, on the cliffside. It’s like there’s a gulf between them. Thor can remember so many arguments over the past decades, that had began like this - Loki cold and quiet and tense, until it all blew up. And they were all just little microcosms of the coming catastrophe. Thor opens his mouth to break the pattern, force Loki out of this mood, but then the Valkyrie interrupts and the mood breaks anyway.

That night, Loki nods when Thor offers to stay with him, to prevent further sleepwalking. Things seem almost back to normal at first, they settle into bed, no trace of Loki’s annoyance. He’s even a little clingy, in the safety of the dark, resting his head on Thor’s chest, which aggravates the injury, but Thor says nothing.

He wakes in the dead of night and at first doesn’t realize why. Then he opens his eyes to see Loki sitting up, staring into the darkness.

“Loki? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s nothing. I’m fine.” His voice sounds choked, thick with suppressed emotion. “It’s just…” Thor assumes he’s about to get whatever Loki had stopped himself from saying that afternoon on the cliffside. “Sorry. You’re going to stay for a while now, yes? You’re not planning on…running off every time _they_ need you?”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” Thor rests his hand on Loki’s back. “If you need me to stay for a while-”

Loki sighs. “I cannot ask you to do that. I was just…I apologize. You’re right. That’s what’s been upsetting me.”

“I’ve left before and you haven’t been so upset. Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, is there something different this time?” Thor doesn’t answer, and Loki looks away. “It’s just. You’ve never been left behind like that. Never. I’m _always_ left behind.” His voice is raw. “Even when I was a child, you’d go running off with Sif and Fandral and Hogun and Mother said ‘when you’re older, Loki’ and even when I was allowed often you would leave me behind anyway, and sometimes you’d be gone for so long.” Thor bites his tongue against the rebuttal that Loki too would often disappear for months at a time, with no notice or contact. “And then…the Raft. What they did to us. When I couldn’t feel you…I would make myself crazy wondering what was happening. I understand why I cannot always come with you now - and I do not always want to - but you have to understand that it does not make me happy to not know what’s happening. Do you understand?”

“Of course, brother. I understand completely. I do not revel in leaving you either. It helps now, that I know I’m leaving you in safety. But I understand. And I will seek to alleviate the stress the next time I have to go. We’ll…check in more, I’ll keep you better updated, I-” _won’t lie to you about being injured_. Thor thinks, for a moment, about telling him right then, but what good would that do? It would only frighten him more and besides, the bruises have all but faded. The ache isn’t quite so bad. It doesn’t matter anymore, and it will just make things worse. So he says nothing more.

Loki turns back towards him. “I’m sorry, I’m being foolish.”

“You never have to apologize for this. We’ve had…we’ve had just the _worst_ decade.” That pries a small chuckle out of Loki. “But we’re getting better.”

“I suppose we are.”

Loki settles back down and Thor throws a heavy arm over him. “Now. Go back to sleep.”

They get through the night with no further sleepwalking. Things are still a bit awkward, even after their midnight conversation, but Loki is making an effort at normalcy, and Thor does the same.

Until they’re in the kitchen after lunch, when Thor is clearing the table and Loki’s opening the mail.

“They actually sent you a check for that thing last month, I didn’t realize you were being paid.”

“I never demand payment, usually just ask that they keep us in their considerations for aid, though we need less. We’re doing much better now, the amount we've planted should tide us over if all goes well.”

“There’s a thank you note here as well.” Loki abruptly sets the stack of mail on the table, hands hitting the wood with a dull thud. He shuts his eyes, swaying for a moment.

“Loki?!”

“Fine. Sorry.” He turns the next over in his hands.

Thor grunts and goes back to washing up. “Be careful of that glass, it’s too close to the edge of the table. You’ll knock it over if you’re not careful. And if we keep breaking them, I’ll have to leave for the mainland to purchase more.” He’s lost in thought, thinking through how many glassware sets they have left, when he realizes Loki hasn’t opened another letter. “Loki?”

“You’re angry with me.”

“What? Of course not! What are you talking about? If anything, you’ve been angry with me for the last two days, sulking around here, acting cold towards me for no reason other than-” He turns from the sink, and instantly silences. Loki’s ghost white, leaning on the table like he’ll fall over without its support. Trembling with strain, eyes distant and glassy, breath coming in little pants, not deep enough. Thor has a sudden flash of memory, he’s on his knees, bound by crude, biting metal, watching Loki stand, bruised and beaten, bowing his head before Thanos, preparing himself to give over the Tesseract-

Thor lunges for him. The moment his hand connects with Loki’s arm, he flinches away, back towards the table.

“I don’t understand, I don’t understand what you’re _doing!”_ Loki brings his hands up to press against the sides of his head, and knocks over the glass. It falls from the edge of the table and shatters on the tile floor, making Loki jump, tense as a live wire. “You’re angry with me, I don’t understand - I can’t _breathe_.”

“Loki!” Thor grabs his arms, trying to be gentle. Loki’s eyes are squeezed shut, his chest moving rapidly, too shallow. “Brother - it’s all right, you can breathe, come here-”

“No I can’t, you’re lying to me,” Loki gasps, fighting to step out of his grip. Thor holds tighter. He winces at the accusation. “Why are you doing this, _why are you doing this_, what are you hiding? I don’t understand-”

“Brother, I’m not-” He is, he had been. He thought it wouldn’t matter, after last night. And now look what he’s done. “Come here. It’s _okay_.”

Loki rears back, eyes wide and unfocused. “Something’s wrong. Something’s coming…or not. No. You’re not real, are you?”

“What?”

A tear streaks down Loki’s face. His breath hitches. “Ah, I’ve figured it out. You’re not real. Is any of this real? Maybe I’m just still dead, or maybe I’ve broken so badly that my mind is conjuring this all up to protect me. You’re not real, you’re not here. You’re not my brother,” He moans. “You’re just an illusion, I’m so good at those, I almost tricked myself this time.” He casts his eyes around wildly. Thor holds fast. “How much of this is real? Is it all fake? Where am I? The Void? Sanctuary? The Raft? Am I...?" He chokes. "Where did my mind finally shatter, where was the last breaking point? Or was it just…you never came back did you? You went to London and left me behind and died there and left me alone and I can’t take it, I can’t take any of this - ah!” He buries his face in his hands, too overcome to speak anymore and Thor thinks it’s a blessing because he can’t take hearing any more.

“Loki, brother, no. Oh, no, I’m right here.” He squeezes his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…_Norns_.”

Loki’s shoulders begin to shake as he starts to cry. Not loudly, just quiet, hitching breaths. Thor pulls him solidly into his arms, bracing his back with one arm and covering the back of his head with his other hand. “I’m right here.”

“You’re not.”

“Can’t you feel me? I’m right here. It’s not an illusion. It’s real. I promise it’s not an illusion.”

It takes him a long time to return to reality. For the panic and hysteria to let go of his mind. When it does, Thor allows him to pull back a little, to place a hand squarely on his chest, to feel his breath and heartbeat and the core of his power. He won’t look at Thor, won’t raise his tear-streaked face to Thor’s.

“I’m sorry,” Thor says softly.

“Why are you sorry?” Loki finally looks at him. There’s something so afraid, so young and open and vulnerable, in his watery eyes, that Thor almost balks.

But this is where lies have gotten him. He knows that his lies, his hiding away, had set off the small string of events that led them here. He was trying to protect his brother, trying to prevent this very slide into panic, but instead he had _caused_ it.

He covers Loki’s hand with his own, keeps it pressed to his chest. “You were right. I was hiding something from you.”

Thor tells Loki everything, every small detail. Lets him pull up his shirt, to prod at the yellow bruises first with nimble fingers, then with magic.

“There had been a couple cracks. This side was the one injured when we landed on Earth after Sanctuary. It will likely still be more fragile than the other for a few years.” He moves his hand to the side of Thor’s head, then over the place his shoulder had been torn during the battles with Thanos. He sets his mouth in a grim line and leans back against the couch cushions, folding his legs under him. “I wish you had told me.”

“I should have. I am sorry.”

“I thought that after…you said you wouldn’t lie about being injured again.”

“I know, brother, I just…I wanted to protect you. I know it was wrong, but I had hoped…the injury was healing. It would be gone in a few days, and I didn’t want to set back all the progress you’ve made. I did not realize - and I should have - how you would see my obfuscations, how you would interpret them.”

“It was the laundry.” Loki looks away, almost laughing. “It was all of that, yes, I could tell something was _off_. And then. You said you’d do the laundry and you didn’t. And I had this absurd thought - is Thor even really here? Maybe he’s not and you’ve just been talking to a ghost. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it…”

“I will do the laundry for a month, if it will make you feel better.”

“That’s not necessary, brother. Just stop lying to me.”

“I swear.” There’s a pause. Then Thor laughs. “I can’t believe you’re the one saying that to me.”

Loki manages a smile. “Fair. Clearly I’m just so much better at it than you are.”

“That’s never been in dispute.” A little more time passes between them, in a comfortable silence this time. “Don’t be angry with the Valkyrie. She told me not to lie. She warned me this would go poorly.”

“You probably should have listened to her. She would understand better…”

“Is that how you think of what happened? Of being left behind?”

Loki sighs heavily. “I do not know, in truth. I still do not understand what I feel of what happened, not yet. Maybe one day…”

“We have time.”

Thor reaches across and lays a hand on his brother’s knee, rubbing soothingly. Loki smiles at him and it breaks Thor’s heart. Still so trusting, when Thor does nothing but fail, nothing but bring him into danger and fear and suffering. “I promised it would be over. I promised to give you safety. Stability.”

“You have. The rest,” Loki’s smile is wavering and tired. “Will have to come in time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very seriously considered not including this chapter. Or at least holding these back until after I had finished the conclusion. Or trying to be like 'hmm _does_ this chapter fit in with the series?' But then I realized that no one would believe that I would actually give them a _sad_ ending, so it's not _really_ a spoiler. XD Though I did try to keep the details vague, to preserve some surprises. (And also protect against...things changing...since I am still drafting.) But yes, this is _after._ After the dust settles. So to speak, of course...
> 
> Just be a liiittle more patient with me for the actual concluding. I'll have it ready soon, I promise. That's my main goal for November - _finishing_ things. It's about 70% done, then I'll have to do quite a bit of editing, but we're getting there!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3


	7. ghosts that we knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Isolation. pre-Thor. The royal family makes an official visit to a remote holding, and a disused building catches Thor's eye. 
> 
> 18\. Muffled Scream. The Ark. They have plenty to be haunted by, but when actual ghosts appear, things start to get a bit out of hand. 
> 
> aka: Thor sees ghosts. Loki is an unexpected skeptic. 
> 
> [Additional Warnings: discussions of past murder/suicide]

_7\. Isolation_

Thor walks forward. The hall is full of people but eerily silent. His hands shake and he desperately wishes he had some kind of weapon. As he steps inside the hall, he realizes the silence is because everyone is asleep. Every single person in the massive grand hall on Asgard is sound asleep, unmoving except for the steady, slow rise of their chests.

“Hello?” He calls. “What’s going on?”

No one stirs.

He walks forward, towards the high table. His pulse pounds in his ears. His seat is empty, but the others are not. His mother and father lay asleep, heads resting together. Loki is folded over on the table, head a top his arms. Thor puts his hand on Loki’s head and he doesn’t stir. He turns back to the silent crowds, hand still resting on Loki’s crown.

He doesn’t know what to do, he has absolutely no idea what kind of spell or sickness would cause such a thing, would be powerful enough for his parents to succumb. Why was he the only one awake? What could he possibly do to save them?

Just as the uneasiness is starting to really mount, he wakes with a jolt in his bed, heart pounding.

“Sorry!” Loki stands beside his bed with his eyes wide and hands raised in surrender. Thor realizes in waking he’s sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed a fistful of his brother’s shirt. He groans and releases Loki, flopping back against the mattress and throwing an arm over his face. “Sorry,” Loki says again, sounding more imperious than defensive now that the shock has passed. “But Mother sent me to wake you. We’re supposed to be leaving in half an hour and you missed breakfast.”

“Nnn, go away,” Thor groans, still feeling the tempting pull of sleep.

“Nope. Shan’t. I’ll be in trouble if I do not return with you.” Loki’s weight settles on the edge of the bed. “So I won’t be leaving until I’m sure you’re awake.”

Thor wonders if Loki slept at all last night. It seemed the older they got, the more Thor slept and the less Loki did. Their father had dismissed it as quite usual, particularly after Thor’s last growth spurt that saw him gain four inches in less than a month. And Loki was…Loki. Still shorter than Thor but catching up. More curious and bookish than ever. To try to explain Loki’s behaviors was often folly. How he managed to subsist off of so little sleep was beyond Thor, he had barely seen him with his eyes closed in the whole of the last week-

Except in the dream.

“I was having an odd dream,” Thor says aloud.

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You were asleep. No, that’s not the odd part,” Thor quickly clarifies when Loki just smirks condescendingly at him. “Everyone was asleep. You, mother, father…the whole court. Just…sleeping. No one would wake.”

“Interesting,” Loki says in a way that suggests he doesn’t find it very interesting at all. “I don’t really see what is so odd about that when you spend half your time - hey!”

Thor tackles Loki to the bed, pinning him down. Loki squirms, trying to get free.

“Five more minutes,” Thor murmurs where his face his pressed against his brother’s shoulder. “Five minutes and I’ll get up.”

“You’re wrinkling my clothes!”

“They’re traveling clothes anyways.” Thor adjusts his grip, holding Loki like he was an oversized, squirming (and bony) stuffed animal. He struggles for a minute more, then settles, giving in to the fact that Thor’s weight is immovable. He huffs, blowing strands Thor’s long blond hair out of his face. Thor smiles at that.

“Fine. Five minutes, Thor. But I am counting!”

“Mmm. Kay.”

Just as Loki had been avoiding sleeping lately, it seemed he was also avoiding Thor - or at least avoiding the physical affection that had once been common between the two of them. Thor had to admit, his baby brother was growing up, into a clever but awkward teenager who didn’t want to come cuddle in Thor’s bed until their parents or nursemaids came to fetch them anymore. He shied away from touches, blushed and bristled at hugs or kisses to the cheek. Thor was going to steal these little moments where he could get them, even if it meant physically pinning him down.

Loki relaxes a bit after his surrender. He even shifts a little closer and sighs with a touch of contentment. Thor starts to doze a bit.

The dream has left a sticking feeling of dread in his chest. He doesn’t understand why he is so disturbed, he’d certainly had more violent nightmares. But this one is different. He doesn’t know why, but it frightens him. He presses closer to Loki, turning his nose into his shirt to breathe in his comforting and familiar smell. He sighs and frowns as he thinks of the dream.

Loki squirms again. “Is something wrong?” He asks. “Thor?”

Thor sighs and opens his eyes, raising his head to rest his chin on Loki’s shoulder. “The dream disturbed me, that is all.”

Loki looks a little uncomfortable, perhaps guilty for how dismissive he’d been. “Oh. Well. It was only a dream, and it did not sound…”

“I know. It’s foolish.” Thor tucks a loose strand of dark hair behind Loki’s ear. “I just want to protect you.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “From whom? Your subconscious? It’s hardly something I can help you with if it’s your own mind tormenting you-”

“I don’t know,” Thor cuts him off. “I do not know why I am feeling…I’m just…”

Loki shakes his head. “You’re just still half-asleep.”

Thor only laughs and rests his head back on Loki’s chest, where he can hear his heart beating. “I know. Now shush.”

“It’s been more than five minutes.”

“I don’t care.”

“Mother is going to yell, she was already in a mood because one of the serving girls broke a pitcher and spilled wine all over a bundle of diplomatic documents.”

“Then let’s stay here until she’s blown out her rage on the staff.”

“That hardly seems fair to the staff-”

As if on cue, there’s a pounding on their door. “Highnesses!” A frantic, high pitched voice calls. “Highnesses, the queen says you are to be ready in the stables in fifteen minutes, she insists-”

“Okay!” Thor raises his head and calls out. “We’ll be there!” He groans and finally releases Loki, rolling to the edge of the bed and sitting up. He has to take a minute to sit with his head in his hands. “Why must we always leave so blasted early?”

“I do believe to give the whole court time to read out agonizingly long statements of greeting to the Allfather,” Loki says with horrendous brightness. “It’s going to be absolute torture.” 

“I hate everything. _Everything_.”

Loki crawls off the bed and goes to the chair where Thor had laid out his traveling clothes the night before. And starts throwing them at his head. “Get dressed. I’m not going to be yelled at for failing to make sure you were downstairs on time.”

Twenty minutes later, they arrive in the front courtyard and just barely escape admonishment because their mother is distracted by a question from a servant. Their father almost looks surprised to see them.

“I had assumed we would have to set the cavalry upon you,” He says as Thor swings tiredly up into the saddle.

“Never fear, Father, Loki was just as effective as an entire legion.”

“Loki, how did your tunic get so wrinkled, I swear,” Frigga scolds. Loki just smiles at their mother and runs a hand down the front of his shirt. The wrinkles instantly smooth out in the wake of his light green seidr. She sighs. “Very good then, now up.” She makes sure he is securely seated on his horse before going to her own and gracefully swinging herself up into the saddle. She adjusts her skirts around her. “Now. I do believe we are _finally_ ready to leave.”

“Excellent, my love,” Odin says. “Right on schedule.” He nods to the Einherjar guarding the gate to the courtyard. He swings it open and bows as Odin and Frigga make their way through the gate, followed by the princes, then followed by the rest of their entourage.

“Don’t fall asleep in your saddle,” Loki whispers to Thor with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t want you to dream of us all turning into horses, or whatever next odd thing your mind concocts.”

“Ha ha,” Thor laughs without humor. He’s already feeling more awake but still dreads the coming few days. State visits were just so _tedious_.

As they ride out towards the bifrost bridge, he tells himself he dreads only the boredom, and that the foreboding feeling that has settled in his chest only has to do with his desire to escape courtly duties, and not the odd dream that still won’t quite let him go.

Courtly duties are, as usual, utterly agonizing. Through the long speeches and reports, Thor finds himself fantasizing about their long ride through the forest after arriving in this realm via the bifrost.

The forest was lush and beautiful. They left the site of the bifrost landing and rode through it, as the canopy grew thicker and thicker. It had been at least an hour since they’d left the last outlying settlement when they finally arrived at the castle town. The castle itself is protected by a high wall, covered in ivy. There are no other settlements anywhere near the compound but inside the lord and lady’s keep, things seem cheerful and prosperous. Entirely normal, despite their isolation.

As they rode up the path to the castle, Thor found his eyes drawn to a ruined building a little to the east. It looks like it had fallen victim to a fire. The stone is still mostly intact but streaked with black marks, and the roof has caved in, letting sunlight stream over the ruins.

It had intrigued him, and he returns there once they are finally released, trailed by his brother and the twin sons of the lord of the estate. They are closer to Loki’s age than his, and a little strange. Though Thor supposes anyone would be, growing up in such an isolated castle, with no one else their own age around.

“It’s haunted, you know,” One says as Thor steps into the ruined building.

“Haunted,” Loki raises an eyebrow. He glances at Thor with a crooked smile.

“What happened?” Thor asks. Up close, he can see that the black streaks on the stone are certainly soot. “A fire? How did it burn?”

The twins exchange a gleeful look. “They say that many years ago, this place used to be used for all sorts of fancy balls.”

“We have parties sometimes, but nothing like this.”

“Huge parties. Hundreds of people. They had food and drink and they would dance until they collapsed.”

“Maybe other things, I heard the servants say darker things, but they refused to explain when I asked.”

“So they had all these parties and were happy, but there was a sickness in the countryside. People were starving, dying.”

“The survivors retreated here and danced while everyone else got sick and died.”

“And then one night a mysterious man came and, while the partiers slept off the drink, set fire to the house.”

“Some say it was a disgruntled villager whose family had died in the plague when they could have been saved if they had been let into the castle.”

“But some say it was Death himself.”

Loki laughs. “Death himself? Really?”

“It’s just a story,” One of the twins shrugs. “The villager is a more likely explanation.”

“Or an accident.”

The twins have completed their tale, and so quickly grow bored of the ruins. “Come on, we can show you the pond.” The older of the two jumps down from the collapsed doorway of the building and starts towards the pond.

“Let me guess, there’s a sea monster hiding in the waters.” Loki scoffs but starts after the twins. He turns back when he realizes Thor hasn’t yet followed him. “Aren’t you coming?” He asks.

Thor takes another moment to study the ruins. “I’m coming.”

“It’s just a story. There are no ghosts.”

He turns back. “Of course not.”

“I’d be able to tell,” Loki says confidently.

“Of course, brother. Come.” They leave the ruins to their slow decay.

Thor wakes up. It is still pitch black outside, and for a moment he doesn’t know where he is or what’s woken him. He remembers that he’s in his guest quarters in the castle keep. Then he realizes that he can hear music. That’s what must have woken him. He can hear music and voices, despite the whole castle having retired to bed several hours ago. It’s muffled, but there. He sits up.

Out his window, he can see the ruins, the burnt out shell. There are lights in the windows, flickering like many candle flames.

He hesitates a moment. He could just go back to bed. It’s probably just a trick of the light, or else just some young people joking around in the ruined building. But something tells him to investigate. A little voice in his head bids him _go_. And tells him that he would be a coward if he did not.

Thor, not one to be considered a coward, pulls on his boots and a jacket. There’s a side staircase that takes him right to a door leading out onto the lawn. Thor trudges across. He keeps his eyes on the lights, and they do not fade, though the voices have softened to a quiet murmur.

When he reaches the ruins, he finds that it had been no trick of the light, and was not just a small group of thrill-seekers.

No. The ruins are suddenly restored to their normal state. There is a large gathering of people, dancing a waltz. There are piled high tables laden with food, bottles being passed from person to person. There is laughter and joy, but it all has an edge to it, like the whole group is on the precipice of madness.

Thor is speechless, watching the dancers. He recognizes none of them. He closes his eyes and half expects when he opens them to wake up in his bed, but when he opens his eyes again they are still there. A woman in a blue gown breaks off from the dancers. She waves, smiling invitingly at him.

“Good evening,” She says. The woman reaches out a hand and smiles too wide, welcoming him in. Thor regains the ability to speak, to move. He takes a half step backward.

“What is-“ The second the sound is out of his mouth everything vanishes. The fires, the decorations, the dancers. Everything is gone in an instant, and the ruins are dark and cold as if nothing was there at all. Thor is left gasping and confused, wondering if he was dreaming, or going mad.

He slips several minutes and a mad flight later, into his brother’s room. He roughly shakes Loki awake. “Go ‘way,” Loki groans, pushing at Thor’s arms.

“Loki! Wake up!”

_“What?”_ He says sharply.

“I was just…the ruins…” He manages to explain what he saw. Loki sits up and staggers to the window.

“It’s dark now,” He says.

“I know what I saw.”

“Or dreamed.”

“It was not a dream.”

“Okay,” Loki says sleepily. “But neither was it magic. At least nothing malicious. So. Can I go back to bed now?” Loki flops back into bed. He makes a soft, irritated noise in his throat when Thor crawls in beside him, wraps his arms tight around him

“Just let me stay the night.”

“Mm, _fine_. Foolish…” Loki’s already falling back to sleep.

Thor knows it’s childish, his inability to go back to his own room. But he knows what he saw. And he’s afraid.

It takes him a long time to calm down enough to sleep.

In the morning, he is less sure that what he saw was real.

“I don’t _think_ I was dreaming…” Thor tells Loki after repeating the story of what he saw.

“You don’t _think_. Couldn’t you just have had a nightmare? Like that silly one the night before we left home?”

“I suppose it’s possible but…it felt so real. And the twins said-”

“Honestly, Thor,” Loki rolls his eyes. “Ghost stories. Legends. Clever, but just fictions. Something to entertain themselves in this boring place. Have you _seen_ their selection of books in the library? Abysmal. And there’s nothing else to do either. It’s not surprising they’d turn to inventing frightening stories.”

“But how do you-”

“I was there with you yesterday afternoon, I didn’t feel anything strange. You didn’t have any traces of magic on you when you woke me up. It was just a dream. And I’m far better at such things than you.”

That condescending tone in his brother’s voice would normally make Thor want to seize his brother by the ankles and dump him in the nearest pond, but this morning he’s still disturbed enough to simply nod. “I’m sure you’re right.”

At breakfast, Thor is seated next to his mother.

“Mother, I was wondering…”

“Hm? Wondering about what, dear?”

“I was just wondering,” He knows how absurd it is going to sound. “About…ghosts.” Loki snorts on Frigga’s other side.

“Ghosts?”

“Uh…yes?”

“What about them?”

“I was just wondering-”

“I’m terribly sorry for interrupting, my queen…” Frigga is pulled away, distracted.

Loki smirks at him. “Ghosts?”

“Shut up, Loki.”

Their mother is distracted for the rest of the meal but returns to him as the servants clear the dishes. “I’m sorry, what were you saying before, darling?”

“It’s nothing,” He says with a false smile. “Forget it.”

“All right,” She smooths back a strand of his hair that’s fallen in his face. “Old, remote houses like these can seem like they’re full of ghosts. But there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

He nods and gives her a half-smile. “I know. Of course.”

“I’m going to go riding, would you like to join me?”

“I would like nothing more, Mother.” 

Frigga smiles. “Excellent. What about you, Loki?”

“No, thank you. I’m feeling rather tired.” Loki looks tired. And a little pale. Thor’s heart drops into his stomach. Loki must see the expression change on his face because he shakes his head dismissively.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Frigga kisses the top of his head. “Get some rest, love.”

“Of course,” Loki says with a slight bow and heads off in the direction of the library.

Thor dreads going to bed that night, and puts it off as long as possible. Loki retires early, rolling his eyes at Thor’s concern over his fatigue.

“I’m just tired, Thor, leave me alone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Norns, brother. Maybe I would be less tired if certain people didn’t keep waking me at all hours of the night.”

So Thor says nothing else, just lets him go to bed and rejoins his parents, who are mingling with the nobility. He would normally find this sort of thing utterly insufferable, but he does not want to go to bed and there is no one his own age save the odd twins. So he remains, until the adults have started to drop off, and finally retires to bed.

It’s no sooner that he lays down than he notices that the glow and the voices have returned. His heart beats fast in his chest. It is time to get to the bottom of this.

He sets out again for the ruins, for the party. Everything is just as it was the night before, exactly. The dancers move to the same waltz. The same woman steps from the crowd and invites him in.

“Who are you?” Thor asks firmly. He stands as tall as he can, balls his hands into fists. “I am the son of Odin and-”

“Stay awhile,” The woman says. “It’s so cold and dark out there. Here it’s warm. It’s nice. We’ll keep you safe.”

“I demand-”

“Anything you demand is yours, my lord. Just rest a while. Aren’t you tired?”

Thor blinks and in an instant, the party goes quiet. All the revelers are draped over furniture, curled on the floor, all fast asleep. It is just like his dream, walking through the court to find all of Asgard unconscious. He steps forward, footsteps loud on the stone but none of them stir.

“No.” Suddenly terrified, he turns from the ruins and runs back to the castle, to his brother’s room. Loki is sound asleep on his side. Thor cannot stop thinking of the dream, his breath coming fast and his heart pounding. “Loki, wake up!” He drops to his knees at Loki’s beside, desperately shaking him. It takes a moment, but then Loki stirs, his face scrunching up.

“Thor?” He says and wakes the rest of the way up. “Thor, what are you _doing?”_

Thor breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank the Norns, you’re all right.” He touches Loki’s cheek.

Loki bats him away and sits up. “What in the Nine happened?” Thor manages to tell him about the ruins, how everyone had fallen asleep. Loki sighs. “So these _are_ just dreams.”

“Loki-”

“You admit you had a similar one before we left Asgard. So it doesn’t have anything to do with ghosts, just your mind.”

“Are you saying I’m crazy?”

“I’m saying you’re being ridiculous. You had a nightmare and then let yourself be spooked by the twins’ foolish stories.”

“And if you’re wrong.”

“You’re saying you don’t think Mother and Father would be able to sense if something was wrong? I saw them in the ruins this afternoon, after your ride, being shown them by Lord Arist and the caretaker. Wouldn’t they know? Wouldn’t they have been able to sense ghosts, or whatever it is you think you’re seeing?”

“I…suppose.”

“Can I go back to bed now?” A whine has crept into Loki’s voice. “I’m tired.”

Thor frowns and runs a shaky hand through his hair. He nods. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Will it make you feel better if I let you stay?”

“I was going to stay anyways.” Thor says with a wavering grin. He crawls in under the covers and again wraps his arms tight around his brother. He buries his face in Loki’s hair and gradually calms enough to sleep.

The next morning, Thor is not as soothed by the light of day as the previous. The princes both sleep later than they perhaps should, and Loki’s still yawning throughout the morning.

Thor finally confronts his father, telling him about his dream and the ghosts.

Odin just shakes his head. “Thor, even if there were ghosts in the ruins, they cannot harm you. They have no power. Your dreams sound disturbing, and I’m sorry you’re having them, my son, but I’m sure they will fade when we return to Asgard.”

“But Father-”

“I assure you, there’s nothing malicious in this palace. Now, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to-”

“I’m worried about Loki,” He says.

Odin turns back to him, looking amused. “And why, pray tell, are you worried about your brother?”

“He’s been exhausted all day, what if the ghosts-” Odin barks a laugh. “What if they’re hurting him somehow? Could it be his magic? What if they’re-”

“Then why have I felt no ill effects? Your mother? You?”

“Maybe they’re targeting…”

Odin patiently smiles at him and Thor feels mounting frustration at his father’s refusal to see the danger. “Thor, I know you wish to protect your brother. It has always been an admirable trait, that you seek to care and protect. But Loki has not complained to me, or your mother. He is a growing boy, it is normal to be more tired than usual sometimes. I understand that before we left he was working on some big project, you know how he is. He’ll stay up for a week at a time, until it catches up with him. He got that from me, unfortunately.” Thor reluctantly murmurs his agreement. Loki did do that, quite often. “He is quite all right, my son, just as you are quite all right. They are just nightmares, my son. Nightmares because we are in a new place, it is a stressful time-”

“I am not a child!” He finally loses his temper. “I am not just…having night terrors because I’m not safe in my nursery! I am not so childish as to-”

“Of course not, but children are not the only ones whose subconscious minds conjure up their fears. Even I am not free from nightmares, and sometimes it can grow difficult to tell the difference between fears and reality. But I assure you, Thor, there is nothing wrong with this place. There is nothing wrong with your brother. We are leaving tomorrow, and I swear, it will be all right until then.”

Thor bites his tongue against further protests and stalks away.

If his parents will do nothing about this, he will have to take matters into his own hands.

Thor does not intend on going to sleep. Despite his father’s reassurances, he knows that he is not just having nightmares. He knows what he is seeing is true, and that they are dangerous.

Loki just shakes his head at him, tells him he’s being utterly foolish and falls quickly to sleep. Thor sits up, back to the headboard, eyes locked to the window and hand resting on his brother’s head. The lights in the ruined castle flicker on, warmly calling to him. Thor takes a deep breath. Loki barely stirs as he rises and presses a kiss to his hair.

“It will be all right,” He whispers. “I swear it.”

He strengthens his resolve, pulls on his boots, and heads out into the night.

The party is in full swing by the time he arrives, the dancers twisting and writhing together. He steps into the doorway, and the same woman in the blue dress extends her hand.

“No. I will not allow this. I will not allow you to hurt my family, I will not allow-”

The woman just laughs. Thor feels a flash of fury, straightens his spine, and-

“They won’t hurt you,” A voice says from behind him. Thor turns, furious, to see the head caretaker of the estate. “I’ve seen you coming out here, my prince. I thought I would ease your fear.”

“They won’t…but they…”

“An echo, your highness. Nothing more.”

“But they’re…”

“Ghosts. Yes.” The caretaker steps into the light of the party, watching the dancers twirl around. “But they cannot hurt you. The rumors are partly true. There was a tragedy here, many years ago, during a party. They used to throw massive parties here, with dancing and games and more drink than they knew what to do with. It was a joyous time - not the healthiest or most productive time, no, but a time of happiness, or revelry. One night after they had all passed out from the drink, a fire started. They’d never been able to find out how.”

“And they all died.”

“Unfortunately, yes. The smoke got them. They never had a chance. Rebuilding this part of the estate was deemed too expensive, it was more cost-efficient to simply build anew. This outbuilding was left abandoned, to become a ghost story. The spirits are an impression of that night, nothing more.”

Thor shakes his head, thinking. “But my brother said there was no magic. I didn’t believe him, but how could…”

“Not everything that is beyond explanation is magical in origin. This type of apparition is distinct from seidr, young prince. It would not surprise me that your brother would not detect it, nor your parents. The ghosts are not magic - they’re just memories. Souls, just like yours or mine, trapped in their last night for all eternity. They carry no real magic of their own.”

“So they will not harm us? It seemed…it seemed as though they _wanted_ me, that they were going to pull us into their wretched dance.”

“They have no power over you, not more than you give them. Some spirits are malicious, yes. These ones, though, are nothing more than echoes. They wanted everyone to join their dance, before the fire. They wanted everyone to share in the revelry. It was a desire born out of joy and hospitality, so share in the party. A revelry that had become consuming the longer they’d been left alone here. They invite you in, but have no power to take you.”

Thor is silent for a moment, watching the dancers. Now that the caretaker had explained, they do not seem so frightening, so twisted. Just sad. They dance together, enraptured by their revelry, heedless of the passage of time. Trapped eternally in their final night. “Why can you and I see them? When no one else seems to?”

The caretaker shrugs. “Some just can see things that others can’t.”

“No, I’ve never been talented at this sort of thing, that’s my brother-”

“It is not the same. As I said, some things are beyond magic. And you are your mother’s son, your highness. Your mother is a great witch. While your younger brother has so clearly taken after her in magical talent, it seems you have your own inheritance as well.” The caretaker smiles. “You should perhaps retire to bed, my prince. It is quite late, and I understand that the Allfather wishes to depart quite early in the morning.”

Thor casts a last glance back at the dancers. “Thank you.”

The caretaker bows. “Of course, my prince.”

Thor returns to Loki’s room. He stays up late again, this time caught up in thought about the ghosts, and his dreams, and how sad it all seemed.

In the morning, he’s exhausted and Loki laughs at how sluggish and reluctant he is to rise. They gather their things and join their parents and wish farewell to their hosts.

They ride back to the bifrost. Thor spares a final glance back at the ruins on their way out, and then turns away.

\- - - - - - -

_18\. Muffled Scream_

The Ark is dark and quiet. It lumbers slowly through the cosmos, two young men at the helm. They’ve pulled the short straws for the graveyard shift, and remain awake while the rest of the ship sleeps peacefully through the night. At least, the night that is set by the clocks in the Ark, the ones that approximately match those of the destroyed planet they fled, and that their circadian rhythms have been aligned to.

Deep in the bowels of the ship, four of the ostensible leaders of the ragged band of refugees are also sleeping peacefully, save one.

Thor opens his eyes. It takes another moment for the dream to let go of his mind, and when it does, he heaves in a breath. “Norns,” He murmurs to himself. His heart beats thunderously in his chest, breath coming hard. But the dream is already fading, the details blurring now that he realizes it wasn’t real, that he is safe in his bed and whatever was happening in the dream, wasn’t actually happening at all.

He looks to his side, where Loki sleeps in a tight ball. The Valkyrie starts to snore from his other side. Bruce rolls over. It was not real and he is not alone. He sighs with relief and sinks back down, shutting his eyes. He lies still, not bothering to try to go back to sleep just yet.

The dream had been about Hela, he thinks. Unsurprising. He has plenty to have nightmares about and Hela has featured in many. This one had been particularly vivid, particularly difficult to separate from reality. He strains to remember the dream, but the details dissipate like smoke.

There’s a sound from the corner of the room. Little more than a whisper of cloth, a rustle. Thor opens his eyes and turns his head just enough to see, to look into the shadows.

There is the faint silhouette of a figure, standing in the shadows. His pulse picks up speed. The shadow solidifies until it is the shape of Hela, her long hair flowing down to her waist. Her pale face turns up at him and smiles.

Thor sits up and throws on the light. The corner is empty.

“Norns, Thor, what are you _doing?”_ The Valkyrie groans. Bruce has not woken, still breathing noisily.

Loki stirs at his side, groaning. “Brother, _what?”_ He says grumpily.

Thor heart pounds, sweat dripping down his skin. “Sorry,” He manages to say once Loki gets up the coordination to poke at him. “Sorry.”

“Are you all right?” The Valkyrie asks.

“Yes, sorry,” His voice is still rough. Loki frowns and sits up. “It’s nothing. I thought I saw something.”

“You had a nightmare, go back to sleep,” Valkyrie says, already drifting back off herself.

“She’s right. It was a nightmare. Sorry.”

Loki’s lips twitch. “Must have been a bad one.”

Thor manages a weak smile. “I can’t remember anymore. I’m sorry for waking you, it just…it held hold over my mind.”

“Well. You certainly have been disturbed by enough of mine lately. No need to apologize.”

Thor gathers up the twisted sheets and straightens them out. Loki settles back down and Thor turns out the light.

Loki says nothing, doesn’t even move, when Thor drapes his arm over his torso and tugs him closer. He falls asleep and wakes several hours later to the lights coming up, in a tangle of sheets and with Loki’s hair in his face.

The next night, Thor has forgotten all about his nightmare. They retire as usual and he falls quickly to sleep.

He wakes, several hours later. It is still dark. For a moment, he’s not sure what’s woken him. Then Loki whispers. “Did you hear something?” Thor frowns. “I thought I heard…”

“Something woke me. I know not-”

There’s the faint sound of a muffled scream, coming from somewhere in the ship. Then another. Loki fights out of his grip, out of the tangled sheets, to get to his feet. He pulls on his boots while Thor is still struggling to untangle himself from the sheets.

“Norns, again?” The Valkyrie wakes up as Loki opens the door.

“Brother, wait,” Thor commands. “Don’t you hear that?” He shoots back at the Valkyrie. Another muffled scream comes through the walls and she’s on her feet too, Bruce gasping awake as well, just as Thor follows Loki out the door. The four of them follow the sounds of the screaming, until they burst onto the bridge, to find a very pale nightwatchman trying to calm a shrieking woman.

“What’s going on?” Thor demands, trying to sound calm and authoritative, though he is nearly trembling.

“I saw him, he was right there, he was right there!” The woman screams.

“Yes, I, uh, saw him too, your majesty.”

“Who?” Loki snaps.

“Kvedulf.”

They get the full story out of the women, then Heimdall escorts the two of them back to their assigned quarters.

“So people are seeing ghosts,” The Valkyrie says. “That’s new.”

“The ghosts of people who died onboard the ship from a curse,” Bruce shakes his head. “Jesus fucking Christ. It’s like a horror movie. I'm living in a horror movie. I thought I was living in _Star Trek _but I'm living in a horror movie-”

“But maybe there’s an explanation,” Loki interrupts. “It’s possible that there are no ghosts. Just a scared people, who have passed too many nights gossiping about the murders. Two young people, up late, who hear something strange and think they’ve seen a ghost.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bruce says. “_You’re_ the skeptic in this situation. You. The sorcerer.”

“I’m being realistic. Not all ghosts are real - the mind conjures it’s own demons often enough without the help of magic. And I’ve sensed nothing on board the ship. Not since we - _I - _broke the curse.”

“And not all ghosts can be detected or banished with magic, brother, you know that,” Thor says quietly. Loki frowns. “I know you hate it when problems cannot be solved with magic. But it's true.”

Instead of rubbing his palm with his thumb like he usually does, Loki’s hand slips higher, tracing over what Thor knows to be raised scars. The ones that haven’t quite yet faded away, where he split open his own wrists and made himself a sacrifice to break the curse. “I am merely contributing what I have to contribute. I have detected no magic. I’m sure the people are just spooked, they have every right to be. That does _not_ mean there are ghosts on board the ship.”

“But you can’t deny it’s suspicious,” The Valkyrie says. “Thor last night, this tonight. It can’t just be a coincidence.”

Loki rises. “I did not say it was a coincidence. It is a natural occurrence among an unstable, constantly threatened population that has experienced more trauma in the last few months than most people can reasonably be expected to survive with their sanities intact, including one recent, vividly violent series of murders and assaults. Thor saw Hela. They saw Kvedulf. Both figures had viscerally traumatized those they appeared to. It’s completely _normal_.”

“Since when are you the expert on normal mental states?” The Valkyrie retorts. Loki offers no response, just gives her a glare.

Bruce shakes his head. “I still can’t believe that _the sorcerer_ is the one that doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

“I am not saying I don’t believe in ghosts, ghosts are very much real. I just don’t think _every_ instance of an overactive imagination should be called a ghost. I am going back to bed. In the morning, we can take stock again and I’m sure you’ll all realize that you are just being silly and frightened by the dark.”

“Wait,” Thor says when Loki turns to go. “I don’t want you going back by yourself.”

“See?” Loki laughs. “You’re giving in to the superstition.”

“Will you humor me at least?” Thor asks softly.

Loki rubs at his wrist again - at the scars. “Fine,” He says and jerks his head. Thor rises to follow. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Valkyrie motion for Bruce to hang back and nods his thanks at her. When they get back to their room, Thor catches Loki’s arm.

“I know you do not believe-”

“I just think-”

“Wait,” Thor stops him. “Regardless of whether or not you believe, brother, this is a difficult subject. You accuse us of giving into superstition but are you not also perhaps clinging to denial?”

“For the record, I am _not_.” But Loki looks away, his brow furrowing. When he speaks again his voice is low and tight. “But what if I am? What if I just cannot take one more thing, because I’m _haunted_ by enough without having to deal with the ghosts of our dead sister and the victims of the curse coming back to keen at us-” Loki cuts off, breathless. “I still believe this is just the overactive imaginations of a traumatized people. But even if you are right…I just can’t...”

Thor wants to say that he’ll make this right, that he will protect them all. But he cannot help but remember how it had been he who nearly killed his brother under the influence of the curse.

So he just pulls him into his arms.

"Don't be so dour, brother," Loki says, hesitant amusement in his voice. "It's only ghosts."

The sightings do not let up over the next few days. Loki still insists they are products of frightened over-imaginations, rumors, and gossip . But Loki’s insistence does not keep the sightings from spreading. People become afraid of sleeping, afraid of being alone in the dark. The rhythms of the ship are thrown off by the fear. Thor tries to force people to behave normally, but whispers still follow him. Perhaps if it had been longer after the curse, they would have trusted him to protect them, but now, they rightly begin to doubt his abilities.

Thor sees the first ghost who is not his sister three days after the first sighting.

He rounds a corner and there she is. He doesn’t recognize her at first. She is plain and dressed in typical Asgardian clothing. She could be anybody. He almost brushes past her, until he remembers her face, and when last he saw her.

Swinging from a noose, neck bent at an impossible angle. The weaver who had succumbed to the curse, who had drowned her sister and hanged herself from the rafters. She still has a ring of bruises around her neck.

“I killed her,” She says, voice rough and ragged, destroyed from where the rope bit into her. “I grabbed her and held her tight and I loved her so much but I was so angry, I don’t remember why. I held her under the water as she fought. She fought so hard, but I didn’t let go and then she was quiet and I was empty.” Thor is frozen in place. She takes a step towards him. “You think you’re better, you think you’re strong, but you’re not, you’re just a poor excuse for a witch who can see the future but never stop it. You think you can protect him?” Another step. “You can’t.” Then she steps through him, passes like a cool breeze and is gone.

Thor is left rattled, but unhurt. His heart pounds in his chest and he abandons the task he had set out to complete. He turns instead and flees back to where he had last seen Loki.

“Thor, what-” Thor seizes him in his arms before he has a chance to finish his question. He lets out a surprised squeak. “Thor?”

“_Norns_, sorry, I just…” Thor laughs and holds tighter. “Saw a ghost.” He can almost feel the wry twist of Loki’s lips, but his brother at least doesn’t say anything, just lets Thor hold him until his heart rate slows and he can forget about the ghost.

Thor was becoming unhinged. Loki highly doubted his brother was sleeping at all, and all over some ghosts. Ghosts, that were likely being conjured by that very fear, though no one will listen to Loki’s advice on the matter.

He watches his brother, at the breakfast table. Thor looks exhausted and when Loki says he’s going to go finish inventory, he looks displeased.

“Perhaps wait until Heimdall can…”

“Thor. I am going to go finish the inventory. Heimdall is working on battery maintenance, if you’d like to go find him.” Thor just sets his jaw and lets him go.

Loki cannot necessarily blame his brother. His magic rarely works on the spirits of the dead, being merely the echoes of memory that they are. Loki has always been disturbed by that fact. He didn't like it when his magic was useless. But that does not mean that the ghosts are real or that they can harm them. He refuses to give into the superstitious fear when there is no evidence of danger. Thor couldn't help himself. He's been under strain lately. His inability to fight these apparitions or reassure the people was surely fueling his own fears and sightings. 

Loki just simply tries to behave normally and hopes that eventually, with time, these ghosts would fade.

Like his did.

He did not speak from ignorance when he said that it was likely just the people's minds conjuring the sightings. Sometimes he saw things in the shadows, things coming for him from dark corners. The Black Order, the Other, Gamora, Laufey…Thanos himself even. But they _weren’t real_. They always faded, vanished in the light. He would close his eyes and count to ten and when he opened them they would be gone. They were just products of his own imagination. In time, the others would all learn that their ghosts were the same.

Loki sits on a crate in the storeroom, counting cans of dehydrated food, completing the promised inventory, when he hears a noise. A footstep in the hall.

“Hello?” No one answers. He rises and goes to the door, just in time to see a scrap of black cloth disappear around the bend. “You’re not supposed to be down here, whoever you are. It’s not safe.” When he rounds the corner, there is nothing there. It is a long corridor, with only one exit, a corner at the far end. Not nearly enough time had passed for someone to travel that far. “Hello?” He calls again. He can hear the footsteps and follows after them, though there is a hesitation in his step. An urge to run back to the well-light safety of the storeroom.

“Damn you, Thor,” He curses. His heart is beating fast and thready in his chest, his brother’s fear infecting him as well. He gathers his magic but senses nothing. A trickle of sweat runs down his spine.

Loki turns down another hallway. Still nothing. And nowhere for anyone to have gone. He’s getting down into the bowels of the ship now, where the pipes and wires lead to the engines and fuel cells. It’s getting hot and he decides to stop chasing nothing and return to the storeroom before he drives himself mad seeking things that are not there. He even laughs a little to himself. Foolish. It’s just Thor’s silly nightmares and the people’s paranoia, putting him on edge. Nothing more.

Loki turns to return to the upper levels-

And his heart lurches at the sight of Hela’s face, glaring at him from the shadows. For a moment he thinks it’s a trick of the light but it doesn’t go away and she takes a step forward, reaching out towards his face—

His stomach flips, head spinning. He doesn’t realize he’s falling until his back hits the floor, driving the air from his lungs. His head strikes metal with an almighty crack.

He swims back to consciousness. There’s bright light above him, painfully boring into his skull. He moans and tries to toss his head, but finds it held still. There are voices above him, something cold pressing to the back of his head, and then the light dims.

“Loki? Brother?”

He manages to blink his eyes open to Thor’s worried face, hovering above him. His vision focuses for a second before suddenly his stomach is doing somersaults and he has to push Thor out of the way to be sick on the floor.

“There was a basin _right_ there,” The Valkyrie’s voice points out.

“Terribly sorry,” He groans, miserable. Thor’s still holding his head and neck, heedless of the splattering sick. He’s pressing a cold pack to the back of Loki’s head, at the epicenter of the pain. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Thor answers, laying him back down. “Hit your head badly on your way down.” Thor’s single eye is studying him with concern. He’d already been worked up and now, of _course_, Loki had to go and make it worse. “One of the Sakaraans changing a fuel cell saw you. He said you seemed startled, but there was nothing there, and then you dropped.”

“Ah,” He croaks. “It must have been him…”

“What?” The Valkyrie asks. “What must have been him?”

“I was following footsteps. But I kept losing track…it was like there was nothing there, but it must have been the Sakaaran.”

“Hearing things that aren’t there?” Thor and the Valkyrie exchange a look over his head. “Are you sure you didn’t see-”

He remembers it in a flash, his last seconds of consciousness returning. “Oh. Oh, _no_.” He moans. “You know how much I hate being wrong.”

Hours later, Thor goes to check on Loki and instead of finding him in bed, where he should be recovering from his concussion, he finds him on his knees before the wall, hands pressed flat on the surface and green light glowing around him.

“You should be resting,” Thor admonishes.

Loki glances up. “It was a bump to the head, brother, I’m fine.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Annoyed, that we are apparently still plagued by Hela. That the ghosts everyone was seeing _were_ apparently real, and I could see or sense nothing.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m strengthening the wards on our room.”

Thor sits on the bed and watches him work. “Will it help?”

Loki sighs. “I do not know. I hope so. Since my magic has clearly proven _so_ effective thus far,” He says bitterly.

“It’s getting worse.” Loki stills. “I don’t know what to do,” Thor admits. “People are getting afraid. The ghosts, spirits, whatever they are, are getting more aggressive.”

“I do not know what to do either.” Loki turns back to him. “I was never any good with ghosts. You know that. Good at being haunted but…never any good at ghosts.”

“They aren’t supposed to be able to harm us,” Thor says. “I never thought…”

“We used to think a lot of things that turned out to be untrue.” Loki’s voice Is flat. “Here we are. Haunted.” Loki turns back to him. “I loathe this. I really loathe ghosts.”

“It will be all right,” Thor says halfheartedly.

“Yes.” Loki turns back to the wall. He doesn’t quite sound convinced. “I’m sure it will be.” 

Thor thinks of the apparition he saw of the weaver. He puts his head in his hands and wallows while Loki finishes warding their room.

Thor calls a meeting, just before dinner. They sit in one of the empty rooms and try to come up with a plan. They still have nothing but speculation, as even Loki’s magical expertise cannot help them when it comes to something he cannot sense or explain.

“Ghosts should just be echoes, but they’re clearly starting to gain power,” The Valkyrie points out. “I don’t think Loki just tripped over nothing.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t trip. It would be one thing if I took a step back, injured myself in a moment of fright, but there was nothing. It was like she pushed me over, but I didn’t feel anything.”

“There was a report from one of the nightwatchmen,” Thor says gravely. “Kvedulf appeared and grabbed his arm and left him with a ring of scarred skin in the shape of a hand. Like a brand.”

They fall into silence at this revelation.

“What if it’s Hela?” Bruce suddenly proposes. The Valkyrie frowns. “What if it’s her that's making all of this worse? You guys said she was like the Goddess of Death, right?”

“Perhaps. But she’s really dead, she was fucking obliterated at Ragnarok, there’s no way she has that much power here.”

“She would need some sort of connection, to manifest that powerfully, to fuel the other ghosts. The others all died on the ship,” Loki reasons. “That’s why they’re haunting us now. But she has no connection.”

“Except us,” Thor says. “Or me, rather. I share her blood. Could that be enough?”

“More than enough, but if you were serving at the anchor…that would be a very dire situation indeed. We would have a much more difficult time banishing her.” Loki frowns. “We should have the ship searched. Find anything that could be used as an anchor for Hela’s spirit. If it does turn out to be your blood and if the situation continues to worsen, we may have to make for a planet where I can gather appropriate supplies.”

“For what? A seance? An exorcism? _Christ_.” Bruce asks.

“Well…a ritual. If it comes to it.” Loki looks uncertain. “I’ve never done it before. I’ve never been any good with ghosts. Illusions, yes; curses, of course. Not ghosts. But I understand the theory enough…”

“I do not like this,” Bruce says. He points at Loki. “Don't like the sound of that. Nope. Don’t like this.”

A bell rings out. “That’s the bell for dinner,” the Valkyrie says. “Shall we table this, majesty?”

Thor nods. “Yes, I want to make sure everything appears as normal as possible. We’ll start the search in the morning.”

Thor makes a mistake. He lets the others go before him, go through the doorway first. The moment between when Loki passes through and Thor is about to, the door slams shut of its own accord.

Thor grabs for the door handle but it doesn’t move. “What is this?” He can hear the commotion on the other side. “Open the door!”

“Shit! It won’t _fucking_ budge,” The Valkyrie cries.

“Hold on, Thor, we’ll get you out of there,” Bruce says.

“Hello,” comes the voice from behind him. The voice he expected from the moment the door slammed shut in front of him.

Thor turns. “Ah. Hello, Hela.”

Loki stumbles back from the door, breathing hard. The door doesn’t give an inch, not even with the three of them trying. So he tries magic - and fails. He tries to open a portal, tries to break the door open by magic, tries to send a projection - nothing.

“I can’t phase through,” Loki cries, the edge of panic creeping into his voice. “I cannot send a double, it’s _impenetrable_.”

“This can’t just be the fucking spirits!” The Valkyrie shouts back. “Bruce was right, it has to be _her!_ It has to be Hela!”

“It can’t be Hela, not without some kind of damned anchor.” Loki shouts. And if Thor is the anchor - he doesn’t know what to do then. If it is his blood, shared with their murderous, vengeful sister, there’s nothing Loki can do to banish the spirit.

“So stop panicking and find the anchor!” The Valkyrie shouts.

He tries to think, screws his eyes shut. An anchor. An object, something connected to Hela, something left behind.

There. A flash in his memory. The black, long and black and carved with runes. On a shelf. Barely a day since he had seen it, lying in the infirmary and trying not to vomit while his head throbbed.

“I know where to go,” He stumbles back again, turning away.

“Where?” Bruce calls.

“I’ll be back!”

“Oh, brother, you thought you could get rid of me. And you did for a while.”

“I believe we did so permanently, sister.” Thor's heart is beating fast. He keeps close to the door, where he can hear the others pounding on the metal, shouting.

“Not for long. I’ve been waiting too long for this. For my rightful throne.”

“You want this throne? Because I can tell you, there’s no power in it. There’s no glory in it for you. There is no more gold, no more conquest.”

“And who’s fault is that?” The bitterness in Hela’s voice is distorted, echoing like it’s coming from a bad transmission. “But it’s something you have and I want. That’s more than enough. To deny you something, like you denied me my life and my power and my throne. Though I have to say, brother, you’ve been doing such a phenomenal job of punishing yourself without my help. So much guilt. So much fear. And it’s just as likely you’ll lose the throne on your own, when the people finally tire of your failure to protect them.”

The other ghosts appear, the ones felled by the curse. Kvedulf rages, rage red, yelling obscenities. The weaver steps forward.

“I have tried to warn you. You may be able to see, but you cannot prevent any of it. You will lose all you love and you will deserve to because you have failed-”

Loki takes the corner fast and nearly loses his footing, but manages to keep on his feet, and bursts into the infirmary, startling Gudrun.

“My prince, what in the Nine are you-”

It’s just where he remembers it being. The blade, long and jet black, shining. One of Hela’s. Perhaps someone had taken it to wield against the dead army during the final battle, or it had been removed from a stab wound. He can only hope it is the only one of its kind, that no one else had thought to take a souvenir during their desperate flight.

Loki holds it in his hands and shuts his eyes. He calls his magic. The blade turns to ice in his hands, then green fire overtakes it and obliterates it.

“You will lose him!” The weaver screams. Thor shuts his eyes.

“You will lose everything,” Hela’s smooth voice follows. “I’ll be sure to see to it.”

Then they are gone at once.

The door falls in all at once and the Valkyrie and Bruce tumble inside, hitting the floor hard. “Ow,” the Valkyrie croaks, pushing Bruce’s body off her.

Thor stands in the center of the room, panting, his heart racing. “She’s gone…they’re all gone. Where did she…?”

Loki comes running around the corner, stopping short when he sees that the door has opened. “A blade,” He gasps. “There was a blade left behind, someone brought it aboard, maybe took it from a body, I don’t know. I destroyed it.”

“She’s gone?” The Valkyrie asks.

Loki nods. “I believe so.”

“She’s gone,” Thor says, with more certainty. He doesn’t know exactly how he knows, he just does. Her presence is gone, along with all the others. For now, at least, it’s over.

Later, when everything has calmed down a bit, the Valkyrie poses a question they all hadn’t thought of yet. “The other spirits won’t actually be gone, though? We’re just going to have to put up with a ship full of ghosts?”

“Yes,” Loki says plainly. “Bad things happen. Where they leave behind traumatic memories, they can leave behind ghosts. It is unfortunate, but we are a refugee people floating through the cosmos, grieving our losses. That creates energy. But now that we’ve broken the original curse and rid ourselves of the most powerful spirit, the rest shouldn’t be able to harm us. They should just be little more than an irritation.”

“Echoes,” Thor replies, then turns back to his drink. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet this evening.

“Jesus Christ,” Bruce laughs, a little unhinged. “I’m just going to have to get used to all this magic crap, aren’t I?” 

“Didn’t you grow up with ghost stories? I thought they were quite popular on Midgard, honestly one of the more enduring qualities of human-”

“I mean, yes, but I never really believed they were true. There was this one…”

They spend the rest of the evening telling ghost stories. When they’re starting to make for bed, Thor catches Loki by the arm. “I wanted to thank you for figuring it out. The blade.”

“Of course, brother.” But Loki can clearly read the uncertainty on his face. “What is it?”

“I fear Hela is not finished with us.”

“She is gone for now. We will just have to add her to the list of people after our lives. It’s getting rather long.” Loki seems tired.

“Let’s go to bed. We’ll deal with the rest as it comes.”

They all sleep solidly through the night. The whole ship does, save for the tired souls monitoring the controls. The Ark drifts smoothly through the stars.

On their next planet, Thor goes out of his way to find a bookseller and buys his brother a gift.

“I just thought you might want to brush up, for next time we are faced with a spectral problem.”

Loki runs his finger down the spine, smirking as he flips through it. The smile falls off his face. “There’s a whole section at the end - about when ghosts sightings are false.”

Thor nods. “I spoke at length with the bookseller. The author agrees with you. That ghosts are most often products of the mind. His final essay discusses traumatic memories at some length. Though the majority of the book does focus on what to do if the ghosts are real.”

“Thank you.” Loki is already reading, the book open to a page on conjuring visions of the past.

Thor pats him on the back and leaves him to his reading. He ignores the shadows in the corners of his eyes, the ones his mind tries to tell him are figures hiding in wait, and returns to commanding the ship.

The dreams of Hela fade for a while. But do not stop. A few weeks later, they start back up again, more horrifyingly vivid than ever before.

They're trying to tell him something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Happy Halloween! And happy fandom-versary to me! I started posting 'pain and other human sensations' exactly a year ago. I definitely didn't think I would end up here, 170k words later with this series, but I am very happy about it! 
> 
> Additional notes:
> 
> 7\. Isolation - parts of this are clearly based on (*cough* ripped off of) Poe's "The Masque of the Red Death."
> 
> 18\. Muffled Scream - this slots in between 'pain and other human sensations' ['23. Self-Sacrifice'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473503/chapters/39179725)/['24. Drowning'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473503/chapters/39207480#workskin) and ['27. I Can't Walk'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473503/chapters/39297493).
> 
> I got really into the concept that ghosts aren't really magic, so that's why Loki can't sense or banish them. I don't know why I got so into this concept, it just really grabbed me. I think I just loved the idea that a _sorcerer_ was the skeptic. (And it feeds into the 'Thor is a Mediocre Witch' thing - he can see the future and sometimes ghosts.)
> 
> And to be honest, these might be the last fics I write during the Ark section of this timeline. Things are starting to get a bit top-heavy, a bit too tightly connected, and the continuity will probably start really falling apart if I keep tossing things onto the top. There were a few things I felt like I kind of shoehorned in to make '18. Muffled Screams' work with the other two chapters. 
> 
> I'll probably never stop writing post-Ragnarok fics (because I'm so into the concept/timeline/characters, don't even care what year it is) but these will probably be the last in this specific AU. A year seems as good a time as any to finish it up. (Unless I think of a really, _really_ good idea, of course.) 
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs). Check back for writing progress, whining, and other shenanigans. 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for reading on to the end! I hope you have a fun and safe Halloween and I'll be back as soon as I can with the final chapter of this series. (Well. The narrative conclusion. I have _several_ more ideas for post-Thanos fics.) Come (politely) bother me on tumblr to work on it, share your thoughts, or just say hi! 
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3


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